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NIVERSITY   OF   CALIFORNIA 

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NE¥   STAR   PAPERS. 


NEW  STAR   PAPERS  5 


OR, 


VIEWS    AND    EXPERIENCES 


OF 


RELIGIOUS    SUBJECTS. 


BT 


HEBTEY  WAKD   BEECHEE. 


NEW    YORK: 

DERBY   &   JACKSON,   119   NASSAU   STREET. 
1850. 


Entered  aocor.liiiar  to  Act  of  Conpress,  in  the  year  18.M),  Ly 
HENRY     WAR  D     15  H  E  C  H  K  R , 

lu  the  Oierk'b  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  Southern  District  of 
New  York. 


W.    H.    T'.NSON, 

Stc'eolyper 


<!KO.  KU.-SKI.L  A  Co., 
Printers. 


iii.'j  ,t  !{i:OT:.'Eii, 
IJinderr; 


PREFACE. 


THESE  papers  are,  for.  the  most  part,  taken  from  the  col 
umns  of  the  New  York  Independent.  If  unworthy  of  a  book 
form,  the  Public  has  itself  to  blame,  in  part,  for  encouraging 
a  like  collection  of  Star  Papers,  some  years  ago. 

A  few  things  have  been  added,  from  other  sources.  But 
little  revision  has  been  attempted,  except  in  the  case  of  those 
several  articles  which  were  not  originally  written,  but  re 
ported  or  condensed  for  print,  from  sermons  or  lectures. 
Many  persons  may  be  tempted  to  read  a  short  religious 
article,  who  would  never  attempt  a  profound  book. 

HENRY   WARD   BEECHER. 
BROOKLYN,  June  1,  1859. 


CONT  ENTS. 


Page 

Christ  Knocking  at  the  Door  of  the  Soul,  .  .         9 

Church  Music,              .              .  .  .  17 

Trust,              .              .              .  .  .  .24 

Abide  with  Us,    •                        .  .  .  .28 

Thoughts  for  the  Close  of  the  Year,  .  .  -  3  2 

God's  Pity,      .              .              .  .  .  .38 

The  Mountain  and  the  Closet,  .  .  •       47 

The  Liberty  of  Prayer,              .  .  .  •       54 

Faults  in  Prayer,           .              .  .  .  .60 

Aids  to  Prayer,              .               .  .  .  .66 

Forsaking  God,             .              .  .  .  .70 

A  Rhapsody  of  the  Pen  upon  the  Tongue,  .  .  76 

An  Aged  Pastor's  Return,  .  .  .  .80 

••*  Lessons  from  the  Times,  .  .  .  .86 

Christian  Consolation,  .  .  .  .  -103 

Troubles,  .  .  .  .  .  .109 

\Phases  of  the  Times,  .  .  .  .  .116 

Fullness  of  God,  .  .  .  .  .124 

Christ  in  you,  the  Hope  of  Glory,  .  .  •  *35 

Prayer-meetings,  .  .  .  .  .141 

One  Cause  of  Dull  Meetings,  .  .  .  .146 

Working  out  Our  Own  Salvation,  .  •  ISI 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

Pag  6 

Trust  in  God,  .  .  .  .  .156 

We  Spend  our  Years  as  a  Tale  that  is  Told,       .  .165 

Sudden  Conversion,      .  .  .  .  .174 

"  Total  Depravity,"     .  .  .  .  .178 

Working  with  Errorists,  .  .  .  .187 

Mischievous  Self-Examination,  .  .  .  .201 

Where  Christians  Meet,  ....     204 

The  Day  and  the  Desk,  ....     209 

Is  Conversion  Instantaneous  ?     .  .  .  .213 

Natural  Laws  and  Special  Providences,  .  .  .218 

The  Dead  Christ,         .  .  .  .  .232 

An  Exposition,  .  .  .  .  -236 

The  Episcopal  Service,  ....     242 

Congregational  Liturgy,    *          .  ,  .  .     247 

Churches  and  Organs,  .  .  .  .  .260 

Patriotism  and  Liberty,  ....     264 

Purity  of  Character,     .....     276 
How  to  bear  little  Troubles,      .  .  .  .278 

"  Sin  Revived  and  I  Died,"       .  .  .  .281 

Humility  before  God,  .  .  .  .  -283 

Who  shall  Help  the  Unfortunate  ?          .  .  .286 

Plymouth  Church,        .  .  .  .  .291 

Organ  Playing,  .  .  .  .  .298 

How  to  become  a  Christian,      .  .  .  .     304 

God's  Witness  to  Christian  Fidelity,       .  .  .322 

The  Progress  of  Christianity,    .  .  .  .     341 

Duties  of  Religious  Publishing  Societies,  .  -351 


VIEWS 


^iic 

RELIGIOUS  SUBJECTS. 


CHRIST  KNOCKING  AT  THE  DOOR  OF  THE  SOUL. 

"  Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door,  and  knock ;  if  any  man  hear  my 
voice,  and  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  will  sup  with  him, 
and  he  with  me." — REV.  iii.  20. 

Tins,  in  the  highly  figurative  language  of  the  Apoca 
lypse,  is  a  representation  of  the  Human  Soul  and  of 
Christ's  endeavor  in  its  behalf.  It  is  a  favorite 
method  of  Scripture  to  represent  man  by  the  figure 
of  a  mansion,  or  building.  Sometimes  it  is  a  temple. 
"Know  ye  not  that  ye  are  the  temple  of  God?" 
As  nothing  was  more  criminal  than  to  desecrate 
temples  by  bringing  into  them  evil  things,  so  it  is 
criminal  in  the  sight  of  God  to  desecrate  that  temple 
which  he  has  made  of  man,  by  bringing  into  the  mind 
thoughts  and  feelings  that  are  corrupt  and  depraved. 
Sometimes  the  human  soul  is  a  tabernacle,  or  a  tent. 
Man  is  represented  as  a  tenant,  or  a  dweller  in  a  tab 
ernacle  ;  and  death  is  the  striking  of  the  tent — the  tak 
ing  down  of  the  tabernacle  that  the  occupant  may  go 
free.  Christ  employed  the  same  representation  when 

1*  9 


10  CHRIST    KNOCKING    AT 

he  said  :  "If  a  man  love  me,  he  will  keep  my  words, 
and  my  father  will  love  him,  and  we  will  come  unto 
him,  and  make  our  abode  with  Mm :"  This  is  as  if 
one  were  to  offer  to  take  rooms  in  the  soul,  and  to 
become  a  dweller  therein,  as  people  take  rooms  in  a 
house  and  abide  in  it.  All  those  passages  of  Scrip 
ture  which  speak  of  indwelling,  represent  the  same 
idea.  A  modification  of  it  is  found  in  the  apostle's 
figure  of  building,  and  of  the  master-builder.  This 
manner  of  speaking  pervades  the  Bible,  and  the 
figure  is  appropriate  and  instructive. 

The  soul  is  a  dwelling  of  many  apartments.  Each 
sense,  affection,  sentiment,  faculty,  may  be  regarded 
as  a  separate  room.  And  in  one  regard  all  men  are 
alike ;  they  have  the  same  number  of  rooms.  No  one 
has  a  single  room  less  or  more  than  another.  In  a 
material  building,  one  man  may  have  one  room,  an 
other  two,  and  another  a  score  ;  but,  in  the  soul-house, 
all  men  have  just  exactly  the  same  number  of  apart 
ments.  Yet  there  is  a  great  difference  between  one 
man  and  another,  in  the  size  and  furnishing,  or  in 
other  words,  in  the  contents,  of  these  apartments. 
Some  men  are  built  like  pyramids,  exceeding  broad 
at  the  base — or  on  the  earthy  side,  and  narrow  and 
tapering  as  they  go  up — or  heavenward.  Their  rooms 
are  very  large  at  the  bottom  of  the  house,  but  very 
small  at  the  top.  Other  men  are  built  substantially 
alike,  from  bottom  to  top,  like  a  tower  which  is  just 
as  broad  at  its  summit  as  at  its  foundation. 

But  there  is,  in  general,  a  great  part  of  the  struc 
ture  of  evefy  man  that  is  not  used,  and  remains 
locked  up.  And  usually  the  best  apartments  are 


THK    DOOR    OF    THE    SOUL.  11 

the  ones  neglected.  Those  that  have  a  glorious 
outlook,  that  stand  up  to  sun  and  air,  from  whose 
windows  one  may  look  clear  across  Jordan,  and 
see  the  fields  and  hills  of  the  Promised  Land — into 
these  men  seldom  go.  They  choose  rnther  to  live 
in  that  part  of  the  soul-house  that  looks  into  the  back 
yard,  where  nothing  but  rubbish  is  gathered  arid 
kept.  Many  men  live  in  one  or  two  rooms,  out  of 
thirty  or  forty  in  the  soul. 

If  you  should  take  a  candle — that  is,  God's  Word, 
which  is  as  a  lighted  candle — and  go  into  these  soul- 
houses,  and  explore  them,  you  would  find  them,  gen 
erally,  very  dark.  The  halls  and  passage-ways,  the 
stairs  of  ascent,  the  vast  and  noble  ranges  of  apart 
ments — all  are  stumbling  dark.  There,  for  example, 
is  the  apartment,  or  faculty,  called  Benevolence. 
You  can  tell  by  the  way  the  door  grates,  that  it  is 
seldom  opened.  But  if  you  were  to  thrust  in  a  light, 
you  would  see  that  the  room  is  a  most  stately  place. 
The  ceilings  are  frescoed  with  angels.  The  sides  and 
panels  are  filled  with  the  most  exquisite  adornments. 
The  whole  saloon  is  most  inviting  to  every  sense. 
Seats  there  are,  delightful  to  press  ;  and  the  niches  are 
filled  with  things  enticing  to  the  eye.  But  spiders 
cover  over  with  their  webs  the  angels  of  the  ceiling. 
Dust  blackens  the  ornaments.  The  hall  is  silent,  the 
chambers  are  neglected.  The  man  of  the  house  does 
not  live  in  this  room  ! 

Turn  to  another ;  it  is  called  Conscience.  It  is 
an  apartment  wonderfully  constructed.  It  seems 
to  be  central.  It  is  connected  with  every  other 
apartment  in  the  dwelling.  On  examination,  how- 


lii  CHRIST   KNOCKING   AT 

ever,  it  will  be  found  that,  for  the  most  part,  the 
doors  are  all  locked.  The  floor  is  thick  with  dust. 
The  dust  is  its  carpet.  The  room  is  very  dark. 
The  windows  are  glazed  over  with  webbed  dirt. 
The  light  is  shut  out,  and  the  whole  apartment  is 
dismal.  The  man  who  owns  the  house  does  net  fre 
quent  this  room ! 

There  is  another  chamber  called  Hope — if  haply 
you  can  see  the  inscription  over  the  door.  It  has 
two  sides,  and  two  windows.  From  one  of  these 
you  may  see  the  stars,  the  heaven  beyond,  the  Holy 
City,  the  Angels  of  God,  the  General  Assembly  and 
Church  of  the  First-born.  This  is  shut !  The  other 
window  looks  out  into  the  "World's  Highway,  and 
sees  men,  caravans,  artificers,  miners,  artisans,  en 
gineers,  builders,  bankers,  brokers,  pleasure-mon 
gers.  That  window  stands  wide  open,  and  is  much 
used ! 

The  room  called  Faith  is  shut,  and  the  lock  rusted. 
It  is  lifted  up  above  all  others,  and  rests,  like  a  crys 
tal-dome  observatory,  upon  the  top  of  the  dwelling. 
But  its  telescope  is  unmounted — its  implements  all 
gone  to  waste !  The  chamber  of  Worship  is  silent, 
unused,  unvisited,  dark  and  cheerless. 

Indeed,  in  those  upper  and  nobler  apartments, 
on  which  the  sun  rests  all  the  day  long,  from 
which  all  sweet  and  pleasant  prospects  rise,  to 
which  are  wafted  the  sweetest  sounds  that  ever 
charm  the  ear,  and  the  sweetest  odors  that  ever  fall 
from  celestial  gardens,  around  about  which  angels 
are  hovering — these  are,  in  most  soul-houses,  all 
shut  and  desolate  ! 


THE   DOOR   OF   THE   SOUL.  13 

But  if  you  go  into  the  lower  ranges,  you  shall 
find  occupancy  there,  yet  with  various  degrees  of 
inconvenience  and  misery.  If  you  listen,  you  shall 
hear  in  some  rioting  and  wassail.  The  passions 
never  hold  Lent ;  they  always  celebrate  carnival ! 
In  others,  you  shall  hear  sighs  and  murmurs.  The 
dwellers  therein  are  disappointed,  restless  desires, 
crippled  and  suffering  wishes,  bed-ridden  ambitions! 
In  others  you  shall  hear  weepings  and  repinings ; 
in  others,  storms  and  scoldings ;  in  others,  there  are 
sleep  and  stupidity  ;  in  others,  toil  and  trouble ;  in 
others,  weariness  and  disgust  of  life. 

You  would  be  apt,  from  these  sights  and  sounds, 
to  think  that  you  were  in  an  ill-kept  hospital.  The 
wards  are  filled  with  sad  cases.  Here  and  there,  if  you 
enter  unadvisedly,  you  shall  find  awful  filth.  You 
shall  even  come  upon  stark  corpses — for  there  is  not 
a  soul  that  does  not  number,  among  its  many  cham 
bers,  at  least  one  for  a  charnel-house  in  which 
Darkness  and  Death  abide  !  It  is  a  dreadful  thing 
for  a  man  to  be  enlightened  so  as  to  see  his  feelings, 
passions,  sins,  crimes,  thoughts  and  desires,  motives 
and  imaginations,  as  God  sees  them !  It  is  a  dread 
ful  thing  to  go  about  from  room  to  room,  and  see 
what  a  place  the  soul  is!  How  unlighted  and 
gloomy !  How  waste  and  unused  !  How  shut  and 
locked !  And  where  it  is  open  and  used,  how  des 
ecrated  and  filthy  ! 

Now,  it  is  to  the  door  of  such  a  house — to  the 
human  soul  with  such  passages  and  chambers — that 
Christ  comes  !  To  such  a  dwelling,  he  comes  and 
knocks  for  entrance !  "We  can  imagine  the  steps  of 


14r  CHRIST    KNOCKING     AT 

a  good  man  coming  to  houses  that  are  nothing  but 
habitations  of  wretchedness,  to  places  of  misery  and 
infamy,  to  jails  and  houses  of  correction.  But  none 
of  these  can  convey  a  lively  impression  of  the  grace 
and  condescension  of  God,  in  coming  to  the  doors  of 
the  soul-houses  of  men,  and  knocking  to  be  admitted 
into  their  darkness,  squalidness  and  misery !  For  it 
is  not  because  they  are  beautiful  that  God  comes, 
or  because  he  is  mistaken  about  their  condition, 
or -thinks  them  better  than  they  are.  It  is  because 
He  knows  the  darkness  and  the  emptiness  of  some  ; 
the  abuses  and  misery  in  others ;  the  rioting  and 
desecration  in  others.  And  to  all  he  conies  to 
bring  light  for  darkness,  cleansing  for  foulness,  fur 
niture  for  emptiness,  and  order  for  confusion  !  He 
comes  to  turn  the  rusted  locks,  and  to  open  the  closed 
doors  of  every  chamber — to  let  men  up  into  every 
part  of  themselves — and  to  fill  the  whole  dwelling  of 
the  soul,  from  foundation  to  dome,  with  light  and 
gladness,  with  music  and  singing,  with  joy  and  re 
joicing! 

"Behold  I  stand  at  tlie  door  and  knock" 
Christ  comes  to  the  soul-house,  and  stands  there 
and  knocks.  On  getting  no  answer,  he  goes  away 
only  to  come  and  knock  again.  He  waits  at  the 
door,  and  listens  for  a  voice  within,  and  goes  away. 
He  comes  again,  and  waits,  and  goes  away  !  He 
knocks,  not  at  one  door,  but  goes  round  to  every 
door,  and  waits  for  an  answer.  As  one  who  returns 
to  his  dwelling  in  the  night,  after  a  journey,  and 
finding  it  locked,  knocks  at  the  accustomed  door 
of  entrance  in  the  front,  and  getting  no  answer  goes 


THK    DOOR    OF    THK    SOUL.  15 

to  the  door  in  the  rear,  then  to  the  side  door — 
if  there  be  one — and  then  to  every  other  door,  in 
order,  if  possible,  to  get  into  his  house ;  so  Christ, 
who  longs  to  enter  into  the  soul,  goes  to  every  door 
in  succession,  and  knocks,  and  listens  for  an  invita 
tion  to  come  in,  and  leaves  not  one  chamber  in  the 
soul-house  unsought,  or  one  door  untried  !  He  knocks 
at  the  door  of  Reason ;  at  the  door  of  Fear ;  at  the 
door  of  Hope ;  at  the  door  of  Imagination  and 
Taste,  of  Benevolence  and  Love,  of  Conscience,  of 
Memory  and  Gratitude !  He  does  not  neglect  a  sin 
gle  one  ! 

Beginning  at  the  upper  and  the  noblest,  where  he 
ought  to  come  in  as  a  King  of  Glory,  through 
gates  of  triumph,  lie  comes  round  and  down  to 
the  last  and  lowest,  and  retreats  wistfully  and  re 
luctantly,  returning  often — morning,  noon,  and 
night — continually  seeking  entrance,  with  marvel 
ous  patience,  accepting  no  refusal,  repulsed  by  no 
indifference  to  his  presence,  and  no  neglect  of  his 
message ! 

If  he  be  admitted,  joy  unspeakable  is  in  the  house, 
and  shall  be  henceforth.  The  dreary  dwelling  is 
filled  with  light  from  the  brightness  of  his  counte 
nance,  and  every  chamber  is  perfumed  from  the  fra 
grance  of  his  garments.  Peace  and  hope,  love  and 
joy,  abide  together  in  the  house — for  Christ  himself 
takes  up  his  abode  therein.  But  if,  after  his  long 
knocking  at  the  door  and  patient  waiting  for  entrance, 
his  solicitation  be  refused  or  neglected,  by  and  by 
there  shall  come  a  time  when  you  who  have  denied 
him,  shall  be  denied  of  him.  For  when  you  shall 


16       CHRIST    KNOCKING    AT   THE    DOOR   OF   THE    SOUL. 

knock  at  the  gate  of  heaven  for  admittance  into  the 
mansions  which  he  has  prepared  from  the  foundation 
of  the  world,  he  will  say  unto  you,  as  you  said 
unto  him,  Depart !  But  that  dreadful  day  has  not 
yet  come,  and  he  still  stands  at  the  door — his  locks 
wet  with  the  dews  of  the  morning — and  waits  to  be 
invited  into  the  chamber  of  your  soul.  Hear  his 
voice  once  more,  and  yield  to  its  gentle  persuasion : 
"  Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock  /  if  any 
man  hear  my  voice,  and  open  the  door,  I  will 
come  into  him,  and  will  suj^  with  him,  and  he  with 
me  /" 


CHURCH    MUSIC. 

IT  is  probable  that  music,  since  the  world  began, 
has  been  employed  to  express  religious  feeling.  It 
has  great  power  to  excite  that  feeling.  It  may  be 
questioned  whether  hymns  and  music  do  not  divide 
power  with  preaching.  If  the  sources  of  popular 
religious  doctrinal  knowledge  could  be  examined,  it 
is  suspected  that  the  hymn  and  psalm  would  be  found 
to  be  the  real  sermon,  and  singing  the  most  effectual 
preaching. 

It  is  very  certain  that  strong  religious  feelings  in 
cline  men  to  the  use  of  singing.  And  the  apostle 
prescribes  psalms,  hymns  and  spiritual  songs  as  a 
means  both  of  gaining  and  of  expressing  religious 
feeling. 

Religious  reformations  seem  always  to  have  de 
veloped  singing.  Under  Luther's  administration, 
and  Calvin's  government,  singing  became  so  general 
and  characteristic  that  psalm-singing  and  the  Protest 
ant  heresy  were  synonymous  terms.  The  great  refor 
mation  under  the  "Wesleys  was  marked  by  the  outburst 
of  religious  music.  In  the  revivals  of  New  England, 
not  far  from  the  same  period,  there  was  as  marked  a 
revival  in  singing  as  in  religion.  Indeed,  so  full  were 
the  young  converts  of  song,  that  they  went  to  and 

IT 


18  CHURCH   MUSIC. 

returned  from  church  with  the  voice  of  psalms  and 
hymns ;  and  President  Edwards  devotes  a  special  chap 
ter,  in  his  account  of  the  religious  history  of  that 
period,  to  a  justification  of  this  practice,  against  those 
who  unduly  censured  it. 

Whenever  revivals  of  religion  visit  communities, 
their  presence  is  attested  by  new  zeal  in  singing. 
And  it  is  to  be  noticed,  also,  that  not  only  is  the 
spirit  of  singing  revived,  but,  as  writh  a  common 
instinct,  all  exhibitory  music  is  dropped  as  dead  or 
sapless,  and  the  heart  feels  after  hymns  of  deep 
emotion,  and  after  tunes  which  are  born  of  the  heart, 
and  not  of  the  head.  Revival  melodies  are  but 
another  name  for  tunes  that  express  strong  feeling. 
It  is  quite  remarkable  how  a  congregation,  in  times 
of  spiritual  coldness  and  musical  propriety,  will  tole 
rate  only  classical  music,  or  those  tunes  which  the 
reigning  musical  pedants  of  the  day  favor.  The 
choir  sings  as  clocks  strike,  with  mechanical  accu 
racy,  and  with  the  warmth  and  enthusiasm  of  a 
clock.  But  as  soon  as  a  congregation  are  really 
brought  together  under  the  power  of  a  common 
earnest  religious  feeling,  away  go  the  cold  and  for 
mal  tunes ;  and  wild  airs,  plaintive  melodies,  or 
passionate  and  imploring  tunes,  take  their  place 
without  regret  or  a  thought  of  musical  dignity  and 
propriety. 

But  though  music  holds  so  high  a  place  of  power, 
and  is  susceptible  of  such  beneficent  effects,  it  is 
doubtful  whether  it  is  not  the  most  troublesome 
thing  in  the  whole  administration  of  public  worship. 
It  would  seem  as  if  the  history  of  music  were  but 


CIIUKCH  MUSIC.  19 

the  history  of  continual  expedients.  Churches  are 
undergoing  perpetual  musical  revolutions.  There 
do  not  seem  to  be  any  principles  which  are  known 
and  recognized,  and  which  underlie  musical  admin 
istrations  in  our  churches,  and  give  them  unity  and 
efficiency.  The  Roman  and  the  Episcopal  services 
incorporate  music  with  their  service,  congruously  and 
harmoniously  with  the  whole  system  of  worship. 
The  skill  or  efficiency  of  musical  execution  may 
vary;  but  this  never  affects  the  basis  upon  which 
music  stands. 

But  with  our  other  churches  there  does  not  seem 
to  be  any  musical  stability  whatever.  There  is  hardly 
anywhere  a  deep  and  controlling  feeling  that  music  is 
at  all  a  religious  act.  It  is  but  a  religious  embellish 
ment  at  the  best.  Churches  that  have  chojrs  wish 
they  had  none.  They  that  have  none  wish  they  ha  I 
a  choir — until  they  get  it.  A  large  choir  falls  into 
confusion  very  easily.  It  is  too  unwieldy  to  be  kept 
up  without  great  labor,  time,  and  expense ;  and 
thus  it  is  an  open  magazine,  subject  to  explosion  at 
any  moment.  If  the  clumsiness  of  a  large  choir  is 
got  rid  of  by  substituting  a  quartette,  the  church 
usually  rids  itself  of  discord  and  of  religious  feeling 
at  the  same  time.  The  quartette  is  professional. 
Skill  is  the  criterion.  Music  exhibits  itself;  but  it 
never  exhibits  religious  truth.  Four  singers  in  the 
gallery  forbid  anybody  to  sing  in  the  pew.  One  might 
as  well  talk  in  sermon-time  as  to  sing  in  singing-time, 
when  a  quartette  is  performing.  I  do  not  say  that 
four  persons  could  not  be  deeply  religious,  and  sing 
so  as  to  edify  the  Christian  congregation.  But  I  do 


20  CHUKCH    MUSIC. 

say,  that  four  persons  who  are  musically  gifted  to  a 
degree  that  fits  them  to  perform  the  singing,  are  not 
easily  found,  and  when  found,  are  seldom  under  the 
control  of  deep  religious  feeling.  Experience  shows 
that  trained  singers,  worldly,  and  religiously  indiffer 
ent,  constitute  the  greatest  number  of  quartette 
choirs. 

As  music  grows  less  robust,  and  more  and  more 
cold,  as  it  becomes  more  and  more  "  classical,"  a 
revolution  takes  place.  It  is  determined  to  have  con 
gregational  singing.  It  is  not  asked  whether  there 
is  any  congregational  feeling,  or  whether  the  church 
is  only  a  caravansary  of  one  hundred  and  fifty 
separate  pews,  with  separate  families,  in  separate 
circles  of  life,  anxiously  keeping  themselves  clear  of 
improper  social  connection  with  each  other.  It  is 
not  asked  whether  there  is  any  common  religious 
feeling  that  demands  a  common  channel  of  expres 
sion.  It  is  not  considered  whether  or  not  the  church 
has  been  trained  to  feel,  act,  or  work  together,  or 
whether  the  members  hang  like  icicles  upon  the  eaves, 
united  only  by  being  frozen  together. 

Congregational  singing  must  either  spring  from 
a  common  religious  life  in  the  church,  or  it  must 
lead  to  it ;  or  else  it  will  not  long  live  at  all. 

But,  in  multitudes  of  cases,  congregational  music 
flourishes  only  while  it  is  a  novelty.  A  leader  is 
appointed.  The  choir  is  got  rid  of  with  unnecessary 
dispatch,  and  the  best  voices,  perhaps,  in  the  congre 
gation  are  mortified  and  offended.  Good  tunes  are  to 
be  sung.  Slow  tunes  are  supposed  to  be  very  pious. 
Very  slow  and  very  solemn  tunes  are  used.  For  a  few 


CHURCH    MUSIC.  21 

Sundays  all  goes  well.  But  first  the  young  people 
are  dissatisfied.  It  is  very  dull  and  most  unmusical 
to  them.  But  it  is  the  voices  of  the  young  that 
always  must  give  power  to  congregational  singing. 
As  they  fall  off,  the  sound  grows  thin  and  meager. 
A  wet  day,  or  the  leader  sick,  leaves  the  decorous 
congregation  to  a  mortifying  experience  of  ludicrous 
failure.  In  a  year,  at  most,  the  experiment  ends. 
It  was  begun  without  knowledge,  and  ended  as  it 
begun.  It  was  a  caprice,  an  expedient,  a  reaction  of 
disgust  from  choir-singing. 

A  new  choir  is  inaugurated,  a-  new  leader,  a  new 
dispensation  of  ambitious  display,  of  musical  sensi 
tiveness,  of  quarrelling  and  disgust,  of  revolution 
and  quartette,  until  at  length,  in  some  congregations, 
all  that  any  one  hopes  or  dreams  of  is,  singing  that 
shall  not  damage  all  the  rest  of  worship.  In  other 
churches,  having  lost  every  vestige  of  sanctity, 
music  is  regarded  outright  as  one  of  those  forms  of 
moral  amusement  in  which  men  may  indulge  with 
out  sin,  in  the  church,  and  on  the  Sabbath ;  and  they 
plunge  their  hands  into  their  pockets  and  pay  for 
professional  singing.  Then  King  David  finds  him 
self  in  the  hands  of  the  Philistines.  The  unwashed 
lips  that  all  the  week  sang  the  disgustful  words  of 
glorious  music  in  operas,  now  sing  the  rapture  of 
the  old  Hebrew  bard,  or  the  passion  of  the  suffering 
Redeemer,  with  all  the  inspiration  of  vanity  and 
brandy.  When  the  exquisite  mockery  is  done,  and 
the  opera-glasses  are  all  closed,  the  audience  close 
their  eyes  too,  and  the  sermon  proceeds.  Thus, 


22  CHURCH    MUSIC. 

music,  apostatizing  from  piety,  is  no  longer  a  hea 
venly  bird,  but  a  peacock,  that  struts  and  flares  her 
gaudy  plumes  for  admiration  ! 

The  loss  of  positive  good  is  not  the  whole  mischief 
of  this  state  of  things.  This  false  singing  dese 
crates  whatever  it  touches.  The  hymns  which  are 
used  are  killed.  They  become  suggestive  of  drawl 
ing  discords,  or  of  pedantic  accuracy  and  dullness, 
or  of  ostentatious  trill  and  shake,  or  of  quarrels  and 
troubles.  The  divine  flavor  goes  out  of  them,  and 
they  lie  sapless  and  dry.  And  thus  music,  that 
should  nurse  hymns  upon  its  bosom,  abuses  them, 
like  a  cruel  step-mother,  and  thrusts  them  away. 
Hundreds  of  hymns  have  been  served  worse  than 
Herod  served  the  innocents — for  he  killed  them  out 
right;  but  a  hymn  cursed  by  musical  associations, 
cannot  die,  but  creeps  aside  like  a  crippled  bird,  to 
hide  its  wounds  in  a  songless  covert,  until  time  heal 
ing  them,  gives  them  wing  and  song  again  ! 

Meanwhile,  only  those  who  are  unblessed  with 
musical  taste  are  happy.  The  most  gifted  are  the 
greatest  sufferers.  The  pastor  sees  constantly  recur 
ring  quarrels  in  the  congregation.  One  by  one  good 
men  attempt  to  do  something  ;  but  being  caught  in  a 
passionate  musical  eddy,  and  whirled  about  for  a 
time,  disgusted  and  irritated,  they  get  iron  the 
shore,  with  a  solemn  vow  never  to  meddle  with  music 
again. 

So  deeply  are  some  good  men  impressed  with  the 
mischief  of  music,  that  not  a  few,  and  those  who 
aforetime  have  been  leaders  in  musical  matters,  seri- 


CHURCH    MUSIC.  %6 

ously  ponder  whether  religion  would  not  gain  by  the 
utter  exclusion  of  music  from  the  church  ! 

Are  trouble  and  music  twin  brothers  ?  Is  there  no 
way  of  edification  through  music,  or  must  we  regard 
ind  endure  it  as  a  necessary  evil  ? 


UNIVERSITY 


TRUST. 

A  CHILD  lias  an  exalted  idea  of  the  knowledge  and 
power  of  its  parent.  A  father  stands  in  a  child's 
mind  as  the  type  of  courage  and  capacity ;  and  a 
mother,  of  love  and  goodness.  The  feeling  of  trust  is 
perfect.  Children  do  not  think  about  their  own  sup 
port,  or  their  own  manifold  wants.  There  is  an  inex 
haustible  certainty  that  everything  will  be  thought 
of,  sought,  and  procured  by  their  parents  for  to-day, 
to-morrow,  next  week,  the  month,  and  the  whole  year. 
Nor  does  sickness  or  trouble  diminish  this  feeling. 
It  then  grows  even  stronger.  Trouble  sends  the 
child  right  home  to  the  parental  bosom. 

It  is  this  experience  that  God  employs  to  desig 
nate  the  relations  of  confidence  and  implicit  trust 
that  should  exist  between  every  human  heart  and 
Christ.  The  earthly  parent  succeeds  very  poorly  in 
reproducing  love,  care,  kindness,  foresight,  provi 
dence.  He  is  trying  to  do,  on  a  small  scale,  in  a  nar 
row  nature,  in  a  sinful  world,  what  God  does  glori 
ously,  in  an  infinite  sphere,  with  a  perfect  nature, 
and  with  transcendent  excellence.  God  is  unlike  an 
earthly  father,  but  it  is  on  the  side  of  excess,  abun 
dance,  profusion.  He  cares  not  less,  but  infinitely 
more,  for  every  child,  than  any  earthly  parent  ever 
can.  He  watches  more  willingly,  provides  more 
surely,  gladly,  and  abundantly. 


TRUST.  25 

But  few  Christians,  however,  reproduce  the  feel 
ing  of  children  towards  a  parent  in  respect  to  trust. 
They  believe  in  God  upon  visible  evidence.  Pros 
perity  makes  them  trustful.  Trouble  leaves  them 
without  a  ray  of  quiet  light.  Men  trust  in  God 
when  they  are  in  health,  in  strength,  when  successful 
in  their  affairs,  or  when  surrounded  by  all  that  heart 
can  wish.  When  sick,  alone,  baffled  in  their  business, 
vexed  and  troubled,  hemmed  in  and  shut  up,  they 
fall  away  from  confidence,  and  go  into  despair. 

You  can  leave  your  affairs  to  God  when  they  go 
well;  can  you  when  they  go  ill?  You  can  rest 
quietly  in  God's  hands  when  you  are  in  health  ;  can 
you  when  sick  1  You  can  trust  your  family  with 
God  when  you  are  comfortable  and  happy  ;  can  you 
when  you  are  perplexed  how  to  get  along,  and  your 
children  are  sick,  and  long  sick  ? 

But  what  is  a  trust  in  God  good  for  that  departs 
when  you  need  it,  and  comes  again  only  when  you 
can  get  along  without  it  ?  "What  is  a  ship  good  for 
that  is  safe  in  a  harbor  but  unsafe  on  the  ocean? 
"What  is  a  sail  good  for  that  is  sound  in  a  calm,  but 
splits  in  the  first  wind?  What  patience  is  that 
which  only  lasts  when  there  is  nothing  to  bear? 
Courage,  when  there  is  no  danger ;  firmness,  where 
is  no  pressure ;  hope  when  everything  is  before  the 
eyes ;  what  are  all  these  worth  ?  But  such  is 
the  trust  which  most  Christians  have  in  God.  It 
has  no  virtue  in  it.  It  is  like  a  lighthouse  that 
burns  only  in  daylight,  and  is  extinguished  at  sun 
down. 

We  need  a  trust  that  shall  take  hold  upon  God 

2 


26  TRUST. 

with  such  a  large  belief  of  his  love  and  constancy, 
as  shall  carry  us  right  on  over  rough  as  well  as  over 
smooth  ground;  right  on  through  light  and  dark 
ness;  right  on  through  sickness,  bereavement,  loss, 
trouble,  and  long-pressing  afflictions.  At  noon  one 
does  not  need  a  torch.  It  is  in  darkness  that  one 
should  carry  a  light.  Sometimes  God  communicates 
his  goodness  to  us  through  our  worldly  conditions. 
Every  day  and  every  hour  seem  mails  from  heaven 
bringing  letters  of  divine  remembrance  and  tokens 
of  love.  But,  at  other  times,  God  prefers  other 
channels.  He  chooses  to  approach  us  by  other  in 
struments.  A  Christian  should  understand  that 
every  experience  contains  the  love  and  presence  of 
Christ.  God  wears  many  robes.  He  comes  in  new 
apparel.  Whatever  change  takes  place,  it  is  only 
God  in  another  dress.  A  Christian  should  learn  to 
look  at  the  face  and  not  at  the  dress.  If  your  father 
or  your  mother  came  to  you,  you  would  know  them 
by  the  eye,  by  the  mouth,  by  the  expression,  no 
matter  how  strangely  they  were  dressed.  We  should 
feel  mortified  to  find  that  a  dear  friend  did  not 
enough  know  us  to  carry  the  firm  trust  of  friendship 
through  all  our  moods  and  changes  of  appear 
ance. 

It  will  be  a  help  towards  this  state,  if  every  Christ 
ian  will  reckon  with  himself  in  a  manner  exactly 
the  reverse  of  that  usually  practised. 

Count  for  nothing  that  which  you  feel  in  hours  of 
glee  or  prosperity.  Consider  that  only  to  be  genuine 
trust  in  God  which  you  have  in  hours  of  darkness. 
Begin  there.  Put  your  criterion  and  standard 


TRUST.  27 

there.     If  you  have  none  there,  you  have  none  at 
any  time. 

"  Although  the  figtree  shall  not  blossom,  neither 
shall  fruit  ~be  in  the  vines ;  the  labor  of  the  olive 
shall  fail,  and  the  fields  shall  yield  no  meat  •  the 
flock  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold,  and  there  shall 
be  no  herd  in  the  stalls /  YET,  will  I  rejoice  in  the 
Lord,  I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  salvation" 


ABIDE  WITH  US. 

EVEN  a  glance  of  the  sun  is  cheering,  in  a  day  of 
storms,  or  of  clouds,  which,  without  storming,  fill  the 
air  with  sullenness,  and  make  twilight  even  at  noon 
day.  But  what  is  this  compared  with  the  brightness 
of  the  unobstructed  sun  all  the  day  long,  filling  the  air 
above,  overlaying  the  earth,  and  pouring  gold  upon 
every  tree,  stone,  or  house,  until  the  eye  shrinks  for 
very  brightness ! 

But  the  sunlight  of  a  single  day  brings  forth 
nothing.  Such  days  come  in  December,  in  January, 
and  amid  the  boisterous  weeks  of  February,  and  the 
tumult  of  March.  But  nothing  springs  up.  The 
tree  makes  no  growth.  The  light  does  not  enter 
in.  It  lies  wide  abroad,  indeed  most  beautiful,  but 
nothing  is  created  by  it ;  for  burnished  icicles  and  frost- 
drops  are  the  only  stems  and  flowers  which  come  from 
the  slant  and  cold  brightness  of  the  winter's  sun. 

It  is  only  when,  at  length,  the  sun  returns  from  its 
equatorial  pilgrimage,  and  enters  into  the  earth,  and 
abides  within  it,  that  life  is  awakened.  The  earth 
knows  his  coming.  In  winter,  nature  lies  as  if 
dead.  The  sun  stretches  itself  upon  it,  as  did  the 
prophet  upon  the  woman's  son,  and  from  every 
part  there  is  resurrection  of  root,  stem,  bud,  and 
flower.  But  none  of  these  things  happen  to  casual 
and  infrequent  shining.  They  are  the  fruit  of 

23 


U3IDE   WITH    US.  29 

indwelling  heat,  Not  till  the  sun  enters  in,  and 
abides  in  the  soil,  not  till  days  and  nights  are  struck 
through  with  warmth,  is  there  life  and  glory. 

If  this  be  so  of  the  lower  physical  nature,  how  much 
more  eminently  it  is  true  of  the  human  soul,  and  of  its 
Sun  of  Righteousness !  It  is  a  gladsome  thing  in  toil 
and  trouble,  to  have  a  single  bright  flash  from  the  face 
of  God.  A  prisonerin  a  dungeon  may  have  but  one 
small  window,  and  that  far  up,  and  out  of  the  way  of 
the  sun,  while  for  months  and  months  not  one  single 
day  does  the  yellow  sun  send  one  single  and  solitary 
ray  through  the  poor  little  window.  But  at  length, 
in  changing  its  place  in  the  heavens,  there  comes  a 
day  in  which,  to  his  surprise  and  joy,  a  flash  of  light 
springs  through  and  quivers  on  the  wall.  It  vibrates 
upon  his  heart  still  more  tremulously  than  on  the 
wall.  Even  thus  much  gives  joy.  It  warms  nothing, 
and  lights  but  little ;  but  it  brings  back  sum 
mer  to  his  soul.  It  tells  him  that  the  sun  is  not 
dead,  but  walks  the  heavens  yet.  That  single  ray 
speaks  of  fields,  of  trees,  of  birds,  and  of  the  whole 
blue  heavens !  So  is  it,  often,  in  life.  It  is  in  the 
power  of  one  blessed  thought,  in  a  truly  Christian 
heart,  to  send  light  and  joy  for  hours  and  days.  But 
that  is  not  enough.  It  is  not  enough  for  Christian 
growth,  or  Christian  nourishment,  that  despondency 
sometimes  hopes,  and  darkness  sometimes  smiles  into 
light.  A  Christian  is  to  be  a  child  of  light,  and  to 
dwell  in  the  light.  The  whiteness  of  heavenly  robes  is 
the  light  which  they  reflect  from  the  face  of  God.  A 
Christian  is  to  bear  much  fruit.  This  he  cannot,  un 
less  he  abides  in  summer.  For  mere  relief,  even  a 


30  ABIDE   WITH   US. 

casual  visit  of  God's  grace  is  potential.  But  for 
fruit — much  fruit,  and  ripened  fruit — nothing  will 
suffice  but  the  whole  summer's  sun. 

I^ow  this  steadfastness  of  God's  presence  is  both  to 
be  prayed  for,  and  to  be  possessed.  There  is  pro 
vision  in  the  Gospel  for  this  very  blessing.  It  is  the 
promise  of  the  Father,  and  the  pledge  of  the  Son. 
It  is  made  to  be  a  Christian's  duty  to  pray  for  -it  and 
to  expect  it.  For,  in  very  deed,  there  can  be  no  true 
and  full  Christian  ripeness  without  it.  The  soul 
forms  no  habits,  and  comes  to  no  spiritual  conformity 
to  God,  by  the  jets  and  flashes  of  excitement.  These 
have  their  use,  and  are  to  be  gladly  accepted.  But 
the  soul  must  lie  long  in  the  light ;  it  must  abide  in 
divine  warmth.  There  must  be  spiritual  summer 
where  there  is  to  be  much  fruit.  Our  thoughts  are 
like  our  bodies ;  men  cannot  come  to  good  breeding 
by  an  occasional  entrance  into  good  society.  It  is 
habitual  commerce  with  grace  and  amenity  that 
fashions  a  man  to  politeness.  It  is  living  in  studious 
habits  that  makes  a  man  learned.  And  even  more,  it 
is  abiding  in  God,  and  having  the  indwelling  of  God 
with  us,  that  bring  the  soul  to  good  manners  and 
in  divine  things. 

It  seems  an  impossible  thing,  to  many,  to  carry  the 
presence  and  influence  of  the  Spirit  of  God  through 
all  the  whirl  and  occupation  of  life.  Is  it  impossible 
for  a  young  soldier  to  carry  the  spirit  of  love  with 
him,  through  camp,  march,  and  battle  ?  Is  it  diffi 
cult  for  the  parent  to  carry  his  soul  full  of  domestic 
affections  through  the  business  of  the  day?  Is  it 
impossible,  or  even  difficult  for  us  to  carry  within  us 


A.BIDE   WITH    US.  31 

any  feeling  which  is  deep  and  strong,  and  which  we 
love,  in  spite  of  exterior  disturbance? 

Nay,  do  we  not  see  every  day  that  the  heart,  by 
such  enthusiasms  or  deep  emotions,  not  only  goes  un 
changed  through  burdensome  life,  but  casts  out  of  it 
self  a  flood  of  radiance,  and  makes  its  path  light  by 
its  own  cheerfulness  or  joy  ?  Love  in  the  soul  is 
like  perfume  in  the  garments.  Heat  cannot  melt 
it,  nor  cold  freeze  it,  nor  the  winds  blow  it  away. 
Going  forth  or  coming  home,  it  scatters  itself  but  is 
not  wasted ;  it  is  forever  going  but  never  gone.  And 
the  love  of  God  shed  abroad  in  the  soul  surpasses  all 
fragrance,  in  inexhaustible  diffusiveness.  If  men 
have  only  a  little  love,  an  occasional  spark,  it  may  be 
troublesome  to  nourish  it  when  the  world  casts  down 
on  it  green  fuel.  A  large  fire  waxes  larger  by  that 
very  wind  which  blows  out  a  small  flame.  It  is  even 
as  St.  Peter  saith :  "  If  these  things  be  in  you,  and 
abound,  they  make  you  that  ye  shall  neither  be  bar 
ren  nor  unfruitful  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ." 


THOUGHTS  FOR  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  YEAR. 

As  there  is  something  piquant  and  memorable  in 
the  novelty  of  first  experience,  so  there  is  something 
sad,  and  even  solemn,  in  the  view  of  last  times. 
And  jet,  the  two  antitheses  in  a  man's  own  life,  his 
birth  and  his  death,  are  usually  without  experience 
or  consciousness.  Birth  and  death  are  alike  blind 
and  insensible.  The  first  two  years  leave  almost 
nothing  to  memory.  Then  come  only  a  few  clusters 
for  the  memory.  We  are  five  or  six  years  in  the 
world  before  we  have  brain  enough  and  nerve 
enough  to  receive  durable  impressions.  And,  look 
ing  the  other  way,  by  far  the  greatest  number  of 
people  die  without  apparent  pain,  without  mental 
sensibility — apparently  as  little  conscious  of  failing 
life  as  flowers  are  of  the  loss  of  their  petals,  when 
ripeness  plucks  them  one  by  one. 

But  it  is  a  very  different  experience  that  we  have, 
when  in  full  manhood — in  strength,  vigor,  nerve,  we 
take  record,  day  by  day,  of  change ;  passing  from 
some  things  forever,  entering  upon  some,  and  pal 
pitating  with  various  emotions — sadness  for  the  past 
or  hope  for  the  future  ! 

But,  as  one  may  carelessly  read  a  book  and  fail  of 
half  its  meaning  ;  as  one  may  but  glance  at  a  picture 
and  perceive  not  half  its  beauty ;  as  one  may  part 
from  a  traveling  acquaintance  almost  without  any 
insight ;  so  the  periods  and  events  of  our  life  are 


THOUGHTS    FOR   THE   CLOSE    OF   THE   YEAK.  33 

irregularly  dealt  with.  "We  glance  off  from  events 
before  we  see  even  a  tithe  of  their  meaning ;  we 
hasten  on  to  new  things  without  reading  yet  more 
valuable  lessons  in  the  old.  Should  such  things 
be  put  in  a  book  as  are  happening  to  each  of  us 
every  day,  we  should  hang  over  the  chapters  as  if  a 
strange  enchantment  possessed  us. 

Let  us  redeem  some  thoughts  from  the  past.  Let 
us  call  up  its  shadows.  Let  us  pass  the  events  again 
before  us,  and  pour  upon  them  the  light  of  sober 
reflection. 

When  speaking  of  the  end  of  time,  we  do  not 
reflect  that  it  is  ending  every  day,  every  hour. 
While  we  are  looking  forward  to  the  close  of  our  his 
tory,  we  neglect  to  look  back  and  perceive  that  our 
history  has  been  a  series  of  closings ;  that  the  past  is 
heaped  up  and  crowded  full  of  things — left,  ended, 
finished  forever. 

All  the  periods  of  time  which  have  appeared  days 
and  years  to  us,  are  as  effectually  ended  as  they 
will  be  at  God's  last  day,  when  the  angel  shall  lift  up 
his  hand  and  swear  before  him  that  liveth  forever 
and  ever  that  time  shall  be  no  more. 

Tell  me,  what  can  you  remember,  and  what  recite, 
of  your  first  five  years  f  They  are  gone  without  a 
trace.  To  you  the  time  is  not  only  gone,  but  it  left 
you  almost  without  a  remembrance. 

Of  the  next  five  years,  how  much  can  you  recount  ? 
A  glancing  thing,  here  and  there,  is  reproducible  in 
your  thought.  But  the  years — the  years — they  are 
rolled  away,  died  out,  and  gone  as  have  the  clouds 
of  last  summer ! 

2* 


34:  THOUGHTS    FOR    THE    CLOSE    OF    THE    YEAR. 

Then,  year  followed  year.  They  came,  grew,  orbed 
to  the  full,  waned,  died,  and  went  like  shadows! 
Years  that  wrought  upon  you  like  eternity — whose 
marks  you  will  carry  forever,  dissolved  and  passed 
like  drops  of  dew.  One  by  one,  years  are  dead — 
twenty— thirty— forty— fifty— eighty  !  Go  to  the 
shore  and  call  them.  They  shall  not  hear  you,  nor 
obey  !  Were  they  good,  were  they  evil — were  they 
misspent  and  poorly  used?  Nothing  can  retouch 
their  period,  nor  add  to  their  record.  Is  it  a  solemn 
consideration  to  look  forward  to  that  time  when 
you  shall  stand  on  the  brink  of  life,  and  look  back 
on  all  your  years  ?  It  is  a  great  deal  more  affect 
ing  to  you  to  stand  in  the  freshness  of  youth,  or  mid- 
life,  and  look  back  upon  what  years  are  gone  !  They 
are  registered  and  judged  !  Not  when  God's  judg 
ment-day  dawns  will  they  be  more  fixed  and  judged, 
than  they  are  already  ! 

Not  only  is  there  room  for  solemn  thought  in  the 
larger  periods  of  time,  but  there  is  something 
affecting  in  the  subdivisions  of  time.  Every  Satur 
day  evening  has,  to  my  ear,  a  gentle  knell.  The 
week  tolls  itself  away — one,  two,  three,  four,  five, 
six,  and  the  perfect  seven — and  I  can  almost  hear 
the  sound  dying  away  as  if  days  had  slipped  their 
cables,  and  were  drifting  down  the  stream,  but 
beating  faint  measures  as  they  recede !  And  of 
every  one,  I  may  say — ended !  gone !  I  shall  see  thee 
no  more ! 

Days  likewise  have  some  voice  in  dying.  They 
scowl  and  shut  down  drearily  sometimes,  but 
oftener  die  in  gorgeous  apparel.  As  the  sun 


THOUGHTS  FOR  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  YEAK.     35 

stoops  in  the  west,  passes  the  horizon  and  is  gone, 
I  hear  no  audible  voice.  The  scene  speaks  to  the 
soul,  as  no  voice  may  to  the  ear — "  The  day  is 
gone — forever."  No  temple  was  ever  bnilded  as 
some  days  are — of.  wondrous  deeds,  of  strange 
thoughts,  of  marvelous  fancies,  of  deep  feelings,  of 
strange  experiences.  All  the  frescoes  upon  the 
Yatican  are  not  so  wronderful  as  those  which  our 
experience  paints  upon  single  days — that  move  on  to 
the  horizon,  sink  and  go  to  the  bottom,  with  all  that 
they  have ! 

In  like  manner  it  is  with  seasons — the  promise 
of  spring — the  flush  of  summer — the  fulfillment 
of  autumn,  and  the  year's  long  sleep — winter ! 
Each  of  them  goes,  with  a  gradual  and  lingering 
step — so  that  wre  cannot  remark  their  exit;  and 
we  only  know  their  departure  after  they  have  gone. 
Memory  may  glean  them,  but  never  renew.  Upon 
the  future  we  cast  hopes — but  none  upon  the  past ! 
Upon  the  future  we  throw  good  resolutions  of 
amendment — but  none  upon  the  past.  Upon  the 
future  we  cast  a  fertile  fancy,  and  fill  it  with  thick 
deeds  ;  but  the  past — upon  that  we  cast  only  sighs 
or  tears,  or  faint  joys — faint  as  dried  flowers  are  fra 
grant  of  the  summer  that  is  gone ! 

But  how  much  more  marked  are  the  completions 
of  experiences — the  era  of  early  youth,  the  begin 
nings  of  things  whose  endings  are  with  us  yet  \  the 
seeds  whose  stalks  are  yet  growing ;  the  foundations 
upon  whose  walls  we  are  still  building !  We  can 
look  back  to  days  of  sorrow  that  gathered  as  clouds 
for  storms — that  rained  and  drenched  us:  that 


36     THOUGHTS  FOR  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  YEAB 

threatened  to  overwhelm  us ;  that  passed  and  forever 
left  us,  and  now  lie  in  memory,  rounded  out  and  com 
pleted  things. 

How  many  hopes,  born,  ripened,  perished  ?  How 
many  fears  that  quivered,  struck — like  harmless 
lightnings  in  summer  evenings — and  ended!  How 
many  aspirations  that  flew,  soaring  high,  till  the 
head  was  dizzy  with  height !  How  many  loves 
lighted  the  path  of  those  who  are  gone,  while  the 
love  shines  on,  like  sepulchral  lamps,  fed  by  the 
living  to  cast  their  faithful  light  upon  the  ashes  of 
those  that  are  for  earth  no  more. 

How,  when  the  whole  reality  comes  back  to  us,  do 
we  stand  struck  with  wonder  at  the  deeds  done — the 
events  accomplished,  the  experiences  ripened,  the 
transitions  completed  ?  Of  our  youthful  companions 
how  many  are  with  us  yet?  "What  part  of  old 
companionship  is  left?  If  the  schoolroom,  where 
we  used  to  sit,  should  be  again  filled  with  the  former 
scholars,  how  many  would  sit  there  as  spirits,  and 
how  many  in  body  ?  Of  our  childhood  home,  how 
many  would  come  to  our  summons  in  shadow,  and 
how  many  in  substance?  How,  as  we  advance  in 
life — the  past  gathers  treasures.  What  a  magazine  of 
things  ended,  laid  up,  perfected ! 

In  the  softened  mood  of  such  thoughts,  how  well 
it  is  for  us  to  employ  the  last  days  of  the  year  in 
solemn  reflections.  How  wise  it  is  to  make  an 
estimate  of  our  own  place,  our  character,  our  pros 
pects  ! 

Another  year  is  gone.  Before  we  enter  the 
next,  let  us  reckon  with  ourselves  earnestly  and 


THOUGHTS    FOE   THE   CLOSE   OF   THE   YEAR.  37 

honestly,  what  the  old  year  has  done  for  us  and 
with  us.  And  should  it  be  our  last  year,  let  us 
make  such  timely  preparation,  that  at  whatever 
hour  the  summons  comes,  we  may  depart  gladly, 
rise  with  triumph,  and  take  hold  of  immortality  in 
Heaven. 


GOD'S     PITY. 

"Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them 
that  fear  him."— Ps.  ciii.  13. 

How  strange  it  seems,  to  fall  upon  such  a  wonder 
ful  lyric  as  is  this  psalm  of  David,  singing  to  us  outoi 
the  rude  ages  of  the  past,  where  we  naturally 
expect  harshness  and  severity !  How  wonderful  that 
Our  Age  should  go  back  to  this  old  warrior  to  learn 
tenderness ! — that  the  most  exquisite  views  of  divine 
compassion  should  spring  forth  from  the  world's 
untrained  periods,  from  Moses,  the  shepherd  and 
legislator  of  the  Desert,  and  from  David,  the  sweet 
singer  of  Israel,  whose  hand  was  mightiest  among 
the  mighty,  whether  laid  upon  the  strings  of  the 
bow  or  of  the  harp  ! 

Noble  old  warrior!  Thou  didst  send  dismay  to 
thine  enemies,  and  breathe  joy  among  thy  friends. 
Thy  bow  abode  in  strength,  and  thine  arrows  were 
terrible  in  the  day  of  battle.  But  those  silver  shafts 
of  song,  from  a  lyre  surpassing  the  fabled  sweetness 
of  Apollo's  have  sped  through  the  dusky  years, 
through  thousands  of  them,  and  are  flying  yet ;  not 
for  wounding,  but  for  life  and  healing. 

If  we  remember  the  times  of  David,  we  shall  be 
no  less  surprised  at  the  ripeness  of  the  views  of  God, 
which  he  gives,  their  symmetry  and  all-sided  ness, 

S3 


39 

gentle  without  moral  weakness,  and  strong  without 
harshness ;  building  up  the  divine  glory  in  justice 
and  truth,  and  walling  it  about  with  majesty  and  sta 
bility.  But  then,  as  in  a  garden  inclosed  with 
mighty  walls,  oh  Psalmist,  thou  didst  cover  the 
bosom  of  God  with  flowers  and  fruits,  and  make 
the  thought  of  Him  sweeter  to  the  fainting  soul 
than  all  the  breath  of  flowers,  or  sound  of  cooling 
waters ! 

As  but  a  few  years  intervened  between  the  era  of 
David  and  of  Homer,  not  the  measure  of  a  man's 
lifetime,  it  is  interesting  to  observe  the  views  which 
they  held,  synchronously,  of  the  character  of  God. 
While  David  was  filling  Jerusalem  with  these  match 
less  lyrics,  Homer,  the  blind  wanderer  of  Greece, 
whom  the  world  has  since  made  a  universal  citizen, 
was  singing  of  the  Grecian  gods.  If  any  one  would 
know  the  glory  of  the  Hebrew  bard,  let  him  contrast 
the  psalms  of  David  with  Homeric  representations  of 
God.  How  could  Greece  be  so  dark  when  such  a 
star  shone  over  Mount  Zion  ?  Ho\v  could  Olympus 
be  so  mean  while  Sinai  flamed  with  such  grandeur  ? 
Living  in  the  same  day,  a  thousand  years  of  religion 
divided  them.  Our  hearts  decide  in  a  moment  which 
was  the  true  prophet,  and  the  teacher  of  the  true 
God! 

Let  us  select  from  David's  chants  but  the  single 
strain — God's  Pity. 

Pity  is  a  mode  or  particular  development  of  bene 
volence.  It  is  sympathy  for  persons  on  account  of 
weakness  or  suffering.  It  is  not  mere  compassion, 
but  is  mingled  with  a  desire  to  aid  and  relieve. 


Pity  and  compassion  are  the  antitheses  of  those 
affections  by  which  we  take  hold  of  men  who  are 
good,  lovely,  desirable  for  their  grace  of  nobleness 
and  purity ;  or  of  those  who  are  prosperous,  strong, 
and  happy.  For  such,  to  be  sure,  we  have  a  lively 
sympathy,  but  it  is  of  a  different  sort.  God  has 
gladness  for  those  who  are  glad,  and  pity  for  those 
who  are  sad. 

The  pity  of  God,  as  disclosed  in  this  psalm,  is  the 
working  out  of  the  whole  divine  nature  of  goodness 
toward  the  human  family,  in  their  unformed,  imma 
ture,  sinful,  struggling  existence.  The  race  was  not 
born  perfect — men  were  sown  as  seeds  are.  They 
come  of  germs,  turn  to  leaves,  shoot  forth  a  slender 
stem,  grow  little  by  little  to  branches,  and  find  firm 
ness  and  solidity  only  after  a  long  probation  of  weak 
ness,  temptation,  sin,  and  all  its  sorrows.  This  is 
tiue  of  individual  men.  It  is  true  historically  of 
mankind.  The  need  of  compassion  for  the  race  has 
been  just  as  great  as  is  the  need  in  every  household 
of  compassion  towards  babes  and  young  children. 
It  is  still  the  need  of  each  man  and  of  the  whole 
world. 

As  much  crime  as  there  is,  calling  for  punish 
ment  ;  as  much  deliberate  wrong,  to  be  met  by  de 
liberate  justice;  as  much  license  as  there  is,  and 
overflowing  passion  and  desolating  lust — there  is 
even  more  ignorance,  mistake,  sorrowful  weakness, 
and  unwitting  evil !  The  world  wanders  like  a  half- 
grown  orphan,  calling  for  aid  without  answer,  and 
weeps  for  trouble  and  wanders  still,  stumbling 
through  ages !  And  though  it  needs  reproof  and 


correction,  it  needs  kindness  more.  Though  it 
needs  the  grasp  of  the  strong  hand,  it  needs,  too,  the 
open  palm  of  love  and  tenderness.  It  requires  pun 
ishment  ;  but  it  needs  pity  even  more  than  avenging 
justice. 

While,  therefore,  the  divine  character  drawn  in  the 
Bible  hath  great  depth  of  shadow  in  justice,  all  its 
salient  points  stand  forth  in  the  high  lights  of  love 
and  mercy !  God  is  full  of  near,  real,  overflowing, 
and  inexhaustible  compassion  for  man ! 

But,  it  is  declared  that  God's  pity  is  not  simply 
pity — it  is  a  father's  pity. 

If  a  man  be  found  weltering  by  the  road,  wounded, 
and  a  stranger  comes  who  never  before  had  even  seen 
him,  he  will  pity  him.  No  matter  if  born  under  a 
different  heaven,  or  speaking  a  different  tongue,  or 
worshipping  at  a  different  altar,  he  pities  him  ;  for 
the  heart  of  man  speaks  one  language  the  wrorld  over, 
and  suffering  wakes  compassion. 

But  if,  instead  of  being  a  stranger  it  were  a  near 
neighbor,  how  much  more  and  more  tender  the  pity, 
as  he  ran  to  his  help.  But  if,  instead  of  one  who 
stood  only  in  the  offices  of  general  and  neighborhood 
kindness,  it  were  a  strong  personal  friend — yea,  a 
brother — how  much  more  intense  would  be  the  throb 
bing  emotion  of  tenderness  and  pity  ! 

But  all  these  fade  away  before  the  wild  outcry  of 
the  man's  own  father,  who  would  give  his  life  for  his 
son,  and  who  gives  pity,  now,  not  by  measure,  but 
with  such  a  volume  that  it  is  as  if  a  soul  were  gush 
ing  out  in  all  its  life ! 

But  the  noblest  heart  on  earth  is  but  a  trickliu  _t 


4:2 


stream  from  a  faint  and  wasting  fountain,  compared 
with  the  ineffable  soul  and  heart  of  God,  the  ever 
lasting  father  !  The  pity  of  God  is  like  a  father's,  in 
all  that  is  tender,  strong,  and  full,  but  not  in  scope 
and  power.  For  every  one  of  God's  feelings  moves 
in  the  sphere  of  the  infinite.  His  pity  has  all  the 
scope  and  divinity  which  belong  to  power,  wisdom, 
justice !  Yea,  power,  wisdom,  and  justice  are  God's 
lesser  ways,  and  come  towards  that  side  of  his  being 
where  there  would  be  restriction,  if  anywhere ; 
while  love  and  mercy  are  God's  peculiar  glory.  In 
these  he  finds  the  most  glorious  liberty  of  the  divine 
nature. 

Nothing  so  soon  wears  out  and  exhausts  men  as 
deep  feelings  and  strong  sympathies,  especially  those 
which  have  in  them  an  element  of  pain,  as  pity 
hath.  Our  life  requires  to  be  broken  in  two  each 
day  and  replanted,  that  it  may  spring  up  again  from 
sleep,  as  new  blossoms  out  of  soil.  "VVe  are  buried 
every  night  for  a  resurrection  of  each  morning ;  and 
thus  our  life  is  not  a  continuous  line,  unbroken, 
but  a  series  of  lives  and  deaths,  of  deaths  and 
births. 

But  God,  in  his  almightiness,  asks  no  rest  and 
requires  no  slumber,  but  holds  straight  on  without 
weariness,  wearing  out  the  ages,  himself  unworn ; 
changing  all  things,  himself  without  variableness  or 
shadow  of  turning!  God  is  like  the  sun  at  noon, 
that  casts  down  straight  rays,  and  so  throws  down 
the  shadows  upon  the  ground  underneath  each  tree ; 
but  he  never,  like  the  sun,  goes  westward  towards 
his  setting,  turning  all  shadows  from  under  the  trees, 


43 

and  slanting  them  upon  the  ground.  God  stands  in 
eternal  fullness,  like  a  sun  that  knows  neither  morn 
ing  nor  evening,  nor  night,  but  only  noon,  and  noon 
always ! 

God's  pity  abides,  even  as  he  abides,  and  partakes 
of  the  divine  grandeur  and  omnipotence.  There  is 
a  whole  eternity  in  it,  for  substance  and  duration. 
As  God  himself  cannot  be  measured  with  lines  of 
latitude  and  longitude,  but  is  boundless,  so  is  his 
every  attribute.  His  pity  is  infinite,  moving  with 
equal  step  to  all  the  other  attributes  of  God,  and 
holding  its  course  and  path  as  far  forth  as  omnisci 
ence  doth  ;  it  paces  with  omnipresence  along  the  cir 
cuits  of  infinity  !  For  as  heaven  is  high  above 
the  earth,  so  great  is  his  mercy  towards  them  that 
fear  him.  As  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west, 
so  far  hath  he  removed  our  transgressions  from 
us! 

God's  pity  is  not  as  some  sweet  cordial,  poured  in 
dainty  drops  from  a  golden  phial.  It  is  not  like 
the  musical  water-drops  of  some  slender  rill,  mur 
muring  down  the  dark  sides  of  Mount  Sinai.  It  is 
wide  as  the  whole  cope  of  heaven.  It  is  abundant 
as  all  the  air.  If  one  had  art  to  gather  up  all  the 
golden  sunlight  that  to-day  falls  wide  over  all  this 
continent — falling  through  every  silent  hour  ;  and  all 
that  is  dispersed  over  the  whole  ocean,  flashing  from 
every  wave  ;  and  all  that  is  poured  refulgent  over 
the  northern  wastes  of  ice,  and  along  the  whole  con 
tinent  of  Europe,  and  the  vast  outlying  Asia  and  tor 
rid  Africa ;  if  one  could  in  anywise  gather  up  this 
immense  and  incalculable  outflow  and  treasure  of 


sunlight  that  falls  down  through  the  bright  hours, 
and  runs  in  liquid  ether  about  the  mountains,  and 
fills  all  the  plains,  and  sends  innumerable  rays 
through  every  secret  place,  pouring  over  and  filling 
every  flower,  shining  down  the  sides  of  every  blade 
of  grass,  resting  in  glorious  humility  upon  the  hum 
blest  things — on  stick,  and  stone,  and  pebble ; — on  the 
spider's  web,  the  sparrow's  nest,  the  threshold  of  the 
young  foxes'  hole,  where  they  play  and  warm  them 
selves; — that  rests  on  the  prisoner's  window,  that 
strikes  radiant  beams  through  the  slave's  tear, 
that  puts  gold  upon  the  widow's  w^eeds,  that 
plates  and  roofs  the  city  with  burnished  gold,  and 
goes  on  in  its  wild  abundance  up  and  down  the 
earth,  shining  everywhere  and  always,  since  the  day 
of  primal  creation,  without  faltering,  without  stint, 
without  waste  or  diminution ;  as  full,  as  fresh,  as  over 
flowing  to-day  as  if  it  were  the  very  first  day  of  its 
outplay! — if  one  might  gather  up  this  boundless,  end 
less,  infinite  treasure,  to  measure  it,  then  might  he 
tell  the  height  and  depth,  and  unending  glory  of  the 
pity  of  God !  The  Light,  and  the  Sun  its  source, 
are  God's  own  figures  of  the  immensity  and  copious 
ness  of  his  mercy  and  compassion.  (Ps.  Ixxxiv.  11— 
12 ;  Is.  Iv.  6-13.) 

This  divine  pity  applies  to  us  on  account  of  our 
\veakness.  God  looks  upon  our  littleness,  as  com 
pared  with  his  angels  that  excel  in  strength,  much, 
it  may  be  supposed,  as  we  look  upon  little  children 
as  compared  with  grown-up  men. 

Divine  pity  is,  also,  exercised  in  view  of  our  suffer 
ings,  both  of  body  and  of  mind.  "We  sometimes  fear 


rVIXTIlftXTY] 

to  bring  our  troubles  to  God,  because  they  must  seem 
so  small  to  Him  who  sitteth  on  the  circle  of  the  earth. 
But  if  they  are  large  enough  to  vex  and  endanger 
our  welfare,  they  are  large  enough  to  touch  his  heart 
of  love.  For  love  does  not  measure  by  a  merchant's 
scales,  nor  with  a  surveyor's  chain.  It  hath  a  deli 
cacy  which  is  unknown  in  any  handling  of  material 
substances. 

It  sometimes  seems  as  if  God  cared  for  nothing. 
The  wicked  are  at  ease.  The  good  are  vexed 
incessantly.  The  world  is  full  of  misrule  and  con 
fusion.  The  darling  of  the  flock  is  always  made  the 
sacrifice.  Some  child  in  the  very  midst  of  its 
glee  becomes  suddenly  silent — as  a  music-box,  its 
spring  giving  way,  stops  in  the  midst  of  its  strain, 
and  never  plays  out  the  melody.  The  mother  stag 
gers,  and  wanders  blindly  as  though  day  and  night 
were  mingled  into  one,  and  struck  through  with 
preternatural  influence  of  woe.  But  think  not  that 
God's  silence  is  coldness  or  indifference !  When 
Christ  stood  by  the  dead,  the  silence  of  tears  inter 
preted  his  sympathy  more  wonderfully  than  even 
that  voice  which  afterwards  called  back  the  footsteps 
of  the  brother  from  the  grave,  and  planted  them  in 
life  again  !  When  birds  are  on  the  nest,  preparing 
to  bring  forth  life,  they  never  sing.  God's  stillness 
is  full  of  brooding.  Not  one  tear  shall  be  shed  by 
you  that  does  not  hang  heavier  at  his  heart  than 
any  world  upon  his  hand  ! 

Be  no.t  impatient  of  God.  Your  sorrow  is  a  seed 
sown.  Shall  a  seed  come  up  in  a  day,  or  come  up 
all  in  blossom  when  it  does  spring  ?  Let  God  plant 


46  GOD'S  PITY. 

your  sorrows,  and  water  and  till  them  according  to 
his  own  husbandry.  By  and  by,  when  you  gather 
their  fruit,  it  will  be  time  to  judge  his  mercy.  Now 
no  affliction  "  for  the  present  seemeth  to  be  joyous 
but  grievous  ;  nevertheless,  afterwards  it  yieldeth  the 
peaceable  fruit  of  righteousness  unto  them  which 
are  exercised  thereby."  Trouble  is  like  any  other 
crop.  It  needs  time  for  growing,  for  blossoming,  and 
for  fruiting. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  AND  THE  CLOSET. 

"  And  when  he  bad  sent  the  multitudes  away  he  went  up  into  a 
mountain  apart  to  pray ;  and  when  the  evening  was  come,  he  was 
there  alone." — MATT.  xiv.  23. 

HE  left  the  crowded  shore,  the  thronged  highway, 
and  crossing  the  turfy  fields,  Christ  came  to  the  edges 
of  the  mountains.  His  pulse  throbbed,  and  his  breath 
quickened,  as  he  clomb,  as  ours  does  when  we  climb. 
The  sparrow,  not  knowing  its  creator  and  protector, 
flew  away  from  his  coming.  His  form  cast  its 
shadow,  as  he  passed,  over  bush,  and  flower,  and 
grass,  and  they  knew  not  that  their  Maker  over 
shadowed  them.  Sounds  grew  fainter  behind  him. 
Those  who  had  followed  him,  one  by  one,  dropped 
off,  and  the  last  eye  that  looked  after  him  had  lost 
his  form  amid  the  wavering  leaves,  and  was  with 
drawn.  He  was  in  the  mountain,  and  alone.  The 
day  was  passing.  The  last  red  light  followed  him, 
and  stained  the  air  of  the  forest  with  ruddy  hues. 
At  length  the  sun  went  down,  and  it  was  twilight  in 
the  mountains,  though  bright  yet  in  the  open  field. 
But  when  it  was  twilight  in  the  field,  it  was  already 
dark  in  the  mountain.  The  stars  were  coming  for 
ward  and  filling  the  heavens. 

No  longer  drawn  outward  by  the  wants  of  the 
crowd,  what  were  the  thoughts  of  such  a  soul  ?  And 

47 


48  THE    MOUNTAIN    AND   THE    CLOSET. 

what  were  the  prayers  ?  Even  if  Christ  were  but  a 
man,  such  an  errand  and  of  such  a  man,  would  be 
sublime  !  But  how  foolish  are  all  words  which  would 
approach  the  grandeur  of  Christ's  solitude  upon  the 
mountain,  if  we  regard  him  as  very  God,  though 
incarnated,  communing  with  his  coequal  Father ! 

What  was  the  'varied  prayer  ?  What  tears  were 
shed,  what  groans  were  breathed,  what  silent  yearn 
ings,  what  voiceless  utterances  of  desire,  no  man  may 
know.  Walking  to  and  fro,  or  sitting  upon  some 
fallen  rock,  or  prostrate  in  overpowering  emotion, 
the  hours  passed  on  until  morning  dawned.  When 
he  went  down  to  his  disciples,  they  neither  inquired 
nor  did  he  speak  of  his  mountain  watch. 

If  prayer  be  the  communion  of  the  soul  with  God, 
it  is  but  a  little  part  of  it  that  can  be  uttered  in 
words ;  and  still  less  of  it  that  will  take  form  of  words 
in  the  presence  of  others.  Of  outward  wants,  of  out 
ward  things,  of  one's  purely  earthly  estate,  we  can 
speak  freely.  But  of  the  soul's  inward  life — of  its 
struggles  with  itself,  its  hopes,  yearnings,  griefs, 
loves,  joys,  of  its  very  personality,  it  is  reserved,  and 
to  such  a  degree,  that  there  can  be  no  prayer  expres 
sive  of  the  inward  life,  until  we  have  entered  into 
the  closet,  and  shut  to  the  door.  Every  Christian 
whose  life  has  developed  itself  into  great  experience 
of  secret  prayer,  knows  that  the  hidden  things  of  the 
closet  transcend  all  uttered  prayer  as  much  in  depth, 
richness,  and  power,  as  they  do  in  volume  and 
space. 

Sometimes  we  mourn  the  loss  of  old  books  in  an 
cient  libraries;   we   marvel  what  more   the  world 


THE    MOUNTAIN    AND    THE    CLOSET.  49 

\vould  have  had  if  the  Alexandrian  library  had  not 
perished ;  we  regret  the  decay  of  parchments,  the 
rude  waste  of  monks  with  their  stupid  palimpsests. 
We  sorrow  for  the  lost  arts,  and  grieve  that  the 
fairest  portions  of  Grecian  art  lie  buried  from  re 
search  ;  that  the  Parthenon  should  come  down  with 
in  two  hundred  years  of  our  time,  with  its  wealth  of 
magnificence,  a  voice  in  stone  from  the  old  world  to 
the  new,  and  yet  perish  almost  before  our  eyes ! 

But  when  one  reflects  upon  the  secret  history 
which  has  transpired  in  men's  thoughts,  and  that  the 
noblest  natures  have  been  they  whose  richest  expe 
riences  could  never  have  been  drawn  forth  through 
the  pen,  or  recorded  in  books  ;  but  have  found  utter 
ance  through  prayer,  and  before  the  conscious  glory 
of  the  Invisible  Presence  ;  I  am  persuaded  that  the 
silent  literature  of  the  Closet  is  infinitely  more  won 
derful  in  every  attribute  of  excellence,  than  all  that 
has  been  sung  in  song,  or  recorded  in  literature,  or 
lost  in  all  the  concussions  of  time.  If  rarest  classical 
fragments,  the  perished  histories  and  poets  of  every 
people,  could  be  revived,  they  would  be  as  nothing 
in  comparison  with  the  effusions  of  the  Closet,  could 
they  be  gathered  and  recorded. 

The  noblest  natures,  it  is,  that  resort  to  this  study. 
The  rarest  inspiration  rests^upon  them.  Flying  be 
tween  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  with  winged  faith, 
they  reach  out  into  glories  which  do  not  descend  to 
the  lower  spheres  of  thought. 

How  many  souls,  so  large  and  noble,  that  they 
rose  up  in  those  days  of  persecution,  and  left  home 
and  love  for  the  faith  of  Christ,  and  went  to  the  wil- 

3 


50  THE    MOUNTAIN    4ND    THK    CLOSET. 

derness  and  dwelt  therein,  gave  forth  in  prayer  their 
whole  life !  Doubtless  their  daily  prayers  were  rich 
and  deep  in  spiritual  life.     But  there  are  peculiar 
days  to  all — days  of  vision — days  when  we  see  all 
human  life  as  in  a  picture,  and  all  future  life  as  in  a 
vision;  and  when  the  reason,  the  imagination,  the 
affections,  and  the  experiences  of  life,  are  so  tem 
pered  together,  that  we  consciously  live  more  in  an 
hour  than  at  other  times  in  months.     Every  man  has 
his  mountains  of  transfiguration,  and  sees  and  talks 
with  the  revealed  and  radiant  dead.     In  such  expe 
riences,  what  must  have  been  the  wonders  of  prayer, 
when    the    noblest    natures — rich  in   all   goodness, 
deeply  cultured  in  knowledge,  refined  in  all  taste, 
and  enriched  in  pure  lives,  but  driven  out  among  the 
wild  shaking  leaves  of  the  wilderness  for  their  faith's 
sake,  poured  out  their  whole  soul  before  God ;  their 
conscious  weakness  and   sinfulness,  their  yearnings 
and  trials,  their  hopes  and  strivings,  their  sense  of 
this  life,  and  their  view  of  the  other,  their  longing 
for  God's  church  on  earth,  and  their  prospect  of  the 
glorified  church  in  heaven  !     What  if  some  listener 
had  made  haste  to  put  down  the  prayers  of  Luther, 
with  all  his  strong  crying  and  tears,  if  that  had  been 
possible !      How  many  noble  natures  gave  up  to 
celibacy  and  virginity  the   wondrous  treasures  of 
multitudinous  affections.     And  when  at  periods  of 
heart-swellings,  in  hours  when  the  secret  tide  set  in 
upon  men  from  the  eternal  ocean,  and  carried  them 
upon  mighty  longings  and  yearnings  towards  God, 
before  whom  they  poured  forth  in  mingled  sobs  and 
words  those  affections  which  were  meant  to  be  eased 


THE    MOUNTAIN    AND    THE    CLOSET.  51 

in  the  love-relations  of  life,  but  which,  hindered  and 
choked,  found  tumultuous  vent  in  mighty  prayer  to 
God! 

Consider  what  mothers1  hearts  have  always  been. 
How  many  thousand  thousands  of  them  have  watched 
day  and  night  over  the  cradle  till  the  body  failed, 
but  the  spirit  waxed  even  keener  ;  and,  with  what 
wondrous  gushes  of  words,  such  as  would  disdain  to 
be  called  eloquence,  have  they  besought  God,  with 
every  persuasion,  for  the  life  of  the  child !  We  judge 
these  things  by  our  own  experience.  All  the  words 
that  were  ever  spoken,  and  all  the  thoughts  that  we 
have  conceived,  are  unfit  to  bear  up  the  skirt  of  those 
prayers,  which  burst,  without  words,  right  out  of  our 
hearts,  for  the  life  of  dying  children ! 

Consider  what  a  heavenly  wonder  must  be  the 
Book  of  Prayer  that  lies  before  God !  For  groans 
are  interpreted  there.  Mute  joys  gain  tongue  before 
God.  Unutterable  desires,  that  go  silently  up  from 
the  heart,  burst  forth  into  divine  pleadings  when, 
touched  by  the  Spirit,  their  imprisoned  nature  comes 
forth !  Could  thoughts  or  aspirations  be  made  visi 
ble,  could  they  assume  a  form  that  befitted  their 
nature,  what  an  endless  procession  would  be  seen 
going  towards  the  throne  of  God,  day  and  night! 
Consider  the  wrestlings  of  all  the  wretched,  the  cry 
of  orphans,  the  ceaseless  pleadings  of  the  bereaved, 
and  of  those  fearing  bereavement;  the  prayer  of  trust 
betrayed,  of  hope  darkened,  of  home  deserted,  of 
joy  quenched ;  the  prayers  of  faithful  men  from 
dungeons  and  prison-houses ;  the  prayers  of  slaves, 
who  found  man,  law,  and  the  church  twined  around 


52  THE    MOUNTAIN    AND    THE   CLOSET. 

and  set  against  them,  and  had  no  way  left  to  look 
but  upward  towards  God !  The  hearts  of  men  by 
myriads  have  been  pressed  by  the  world  as  grapes 
are  trodden  in  a  wine-press,  and  have  given  forth  a 
heavenly  wine.  Beds  of  long  lingering  sickness  have 
learned  such  thoughts  of  resignation,  and  such  patient 
trust  and  joy,  that  the  heavenly  book  is  bright  with 
the  footprints  of  their  prayers !  The  very  silence  of 
sickness  is  often  more  full  of  richest  thoughts  than 
all  the  books  of  earth  have  ever  been ! 

"And  when  he  had  taken  the   book,   the  four 
beasts  and  the    four  and   twenty  elders   fell  down 
before  the  Lamb,  having  every  one  of  them  harps 
and  golden  vials  full  of  odors,  which  are  the  prayers 
of  the  saints"     And  the  other  magnificence  of  the 
scene  one  may  read  in  the  fifth  chapter  of  that  gor 
geous  book  of  divine  pictures,  the  Kevelations  of  St. 
John!     How  remarkable  would  it  seem,  if  it  were 
revealed  to  us  that  there  dwelt  in  the  air  a  race  of  fine 
and  fairy  spirits,  whose  work  it  was  to  watch  all 
flowers  of  the  earth,  and  catch  their  perfumed  breath 
and  preserve  it  in  golden  vials  for  heavenly  use !     But 
how  much  more  grand  is  the  thought  that  all  over  the 
earth,  God's  angels  have  caught  the  heart's  breath,  its 
prayers  and  love,  and  that  in  heaven  they  are  before 
God  like  precious  odors  poured  from  golden  vases  by 
saintly  hands !      Again  the  divine  head  is  anointed 
with  precious  ointment,  not  now  from  the  broken  ala 
baster,  a  woman's  gift,  but  by  heavenly  hands  poured 
sweeter  still  from  broken  hearts  on  earth. 

The  influences  which  brood  upon  the  soul  in  such  a 
covert  as  the  closet,  are  not  like  the  coarse  stimulants 


THE    MOUNTAIN    AND   THE   CLOSET.  53 

of  earthly  thought.  It  is  no  fierce  rivalry,  no  conflict 
for  victory,  no  hope  of  praise  or  hunger  of  fame, 
that  throw  lurid  light  upon  the  mind.  The  soul  rises 
to  its  highest  nature,  and  meets  the  influence  that 
rests  upon  it  from  above.  What  is  the  depth  of 
calmness,  what  is  the  vision  of  faith,  what  is  the 
rapture,  the  ecstasy  of  love,  the  closet  knows  more 
grandly  than  any  other  place  of  human  experience  1 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    PEAYER. 

ONE  may  perceive  at  a  glance  how  exceedingly 
wide  is  the  scope  of  prayer 

It  will  begin  with  a  supplication  for  our  temporal 
wants.  These  are  first  felt,  and  felt  longest ;  and,  by 
greatest  number  of  the  world,  felt  chiefly.  Next 
higher,  will  come  petitions  for  relief  from  trouble, 
for  remedy,  for  shelter  in  danger.  In  this,  too,  the 
soul  may  exercise  its  own  liberty ;  there  are  no 
metes  nor  bounds.  Then,  next,  prayer  is  drawn  forth 
by  heart-sorrow.  A  wounded  spirit,  a  bruised  heart, 
naturally  turns  for  confidence  and  soothing  towards 
God.  Its  prayer  may  be  supplication  for  help,  or  it 
may  be  only  recitation  for  the  sake  of  peace.  Next, 
and  far  higher,  prayer  becomes  the  resource  of  a 
heart  exercised  for  its  own  religious  growth.  It  is 
the  cry  for  help  against  temptation.  It  is  the  voice 
of  confession.  It  is  a  recital  of  sins  committed,  and 
a  plaint  of  sorrow  for  them.  It  is  the  soul's  liberty 
to  go  to  its  father  with  all  its  growing  pains,  its 
labor  and  travail  in  spiritual  things.  Prayer,  also,  to 
one  who  lives  in  daily  service  of  God,  oftentimes 
takes  the  form  of  simple  communion,  the  spreading 
out  of  our  life  to  one  who  is  worthy,  whom  we  love 
and  trust,  not  for  sake  of  any  special  advice,  nor  for 
sake  of  special  help,  but  for  the  heart-rest  which 
there  is  in  the  thing  itself.  For  none  love  con- 

54 


THE    LIBERTY    OF   PEAYEE.  55 

fidences  so  much  as  they  who  rarely  have  them. 
None  love  to  speak  so  much,  when  the  mood  of 
speaking  comes,  as  they  who  are  naturally  taciturn. 
None  love  to  lean  and  recline  entirely  upon  another 
so  much,  as  strong  natures  that  ordinarily  do  not 
lean  at  all.  And  so  the  heart  that  goes  shaded  and 
shut,  that  hides  its  thoughts  and  dreads  the  know 
ledge  of  men's  eyes,  flings  itself  wide  open  to  the 
eye  of  God. 

Thus,  I  have  sat  down  within  the  forest,  and  while 
men  were  passing,  feet  tramping,  and  voices  shouting, 
everything  in  the  boughs  and  among  the  leaves  hid 
itself.  But  after  the  noise  had  died  out,  sitting  still 
and  motionless  as  the  tree  I  leaned  against,  I  have 
heard  a  sweet  note  sounded  near  me  ;  then  a  brief  re 
sponse  from  yonder  bush  ;  a  bird  had  hopped  down 
upon  the  leaves,  squirrels  had  come  forth  lithe  and 
merry ;  and  in  a  few  moments  all  the  secrets  and  con 
fidences  of  sylvan  shades  wrere  revealed  to  me.  And 
thus  it  is  in  the  soul  that  shuts  itself  and  holds  its 
peace  while  the  world  is  near,  but  grows  securer  in 
silence  of  contemplation,  and  lets  out  its  gentle 
thoughts  and  whispering  joys,  its  hopes  or  sad  fears, 
unto  the  listening  ear  and  before  the  kindly  eye  of 
God! 

But  in  souls  which  have  caught  something  of  the 
beauty  of  the  divine  life,  prayer  in  many  of  its  moods 
becomes  more  than  this.  There  are  times  of  yearning 
and  longing,  far  beyond  the  help  of  the  most  hopeful. 
There  is  a  prayer  which  is  the  voice  of  the  soul  plead 
ing  its  birthright,  crying  out  for  its  immortality ;  it  is 
heavenly  home-sickness! 


56  THE    LIBERTY    OF    PRATER. 

There  are  times,  too,  of  great  joys  and  gratitudes — 
times  in  which  nothing  is  so  congenial  as  to  exprsss 
the  soul's  thoughts  of  gladness,  its  spiritual  gaiety. 
In  some  lovely  morning  of  spring,  after  days  of  storm 
have  made  nature  mute,  when  the  bright,  warm 
dawning  comes,  can  any  man  tell  what  it  is  or  why 
it  is  that  birds  are  wild  with  ecstatic  song,  and  sit 
singing  with  perpetual  warbling  ?  Can  any  man  tell 
why  it  is  that  they  fly  singing,  turn  and  wheel  in  the 
air  with  every  fantastic  gyration,  or  briskly  leap 
from  bough  to  bough,  and  twig  to  twig,  or  sportively 
whirl  in  a  feathery  fury  of  mingled  delight,  a  hun 
dred  voices  crossing  and  mingling,  with  strange 
melody  of  dissonance?  And  can  any  man,  then, 
give  a  square  and  solid  reason  for  those  experiences 
that  sometimes  come  to  all — and  that  come  often  to 
some,  when  thoughts  are  high  and  imaginations 
divinely  radiant,  and  the  affections  full  of  vibrations 
of  joy,  and  the  whole  soul  is  full  of  rising  gladness, 
gratitude,  happiness,  and  at  times  ecstasies  ?  Have 
you  never  felt  this  ?  I  am  sorry  for  the  man  that  has 
not !  One  day,  one  hour,  of  such  peaceful  joy,  were 
worth  a  year  of  common  pleasure ! 

But  the  soul  does  not  always  live  willingly  itself 
with  itself.  There  is  a  privilege  of  sympathy  with 
God  which  shall  bring  us  hours  of  most  serene 
delight.  It  is  the  privilege  of  God's  people  to  come 
into  such  spiritual  relationship  with  him  that  they 
shall  have  meditations,  almost  visions,  of  the  divine 
goodness  and  glory,  which  will  take  away  from  them 
all  thought  of  self-worth  or  demerit,  of  joy  or  sorrow, 
of  thrift  or  adversity ;  and  will  fill  them  with  over- 


THE   LIBERTY    OF   PRAYER.  57 

powering  gladness  for  the  greatness  and  the  glory  of 
God !  As  one  who  stands  before  some  magnificence  of 
nature,  or  in  the  presence  of  some  stupendous  mar 
vel,  or  before  an  outspread  and  glorious  work  of  art 
or  in  a  cathedral  full  of  dreamy  beauty,  or  within 
a  gallery  of  paintings,  where  there  is  a  perfect  wilder 
ness  of  colors  and  forms,  as  if  there  were  as  many 
as  there  are  flowers  in  the  wilderness ; — as  persons, 
amid  such  surroundings,  are  utterly  unconscious  of 
self,*and  forgetful  whether  they  are  in  the  body  or 
out  of  it,  whether  rich  or  poor,  whether  in  trouble  or 
in  joy,  but  are  carried  quite  out  of  themselves,  and 
made  to  dwell  in  the  realm  and  glory  of  the  scene 
before  them  ;  so,  and  much  more,  is  it  in  the  power 
of  God  to  open  such  views  of  himself  to  the  soul,  as 
to  fill  and  overflow  its  capacity  and  to  make  its 
life,  for  the  time,  a  life  beyond  the  body — a  life  that 
goes  forth,  as  it  Avere,  out  of  doors,  and  mounts  up 
to  the  very  heavens,  and  stands  before  the  eternal 
glory  of  Love,  and  among  the  radiant  multitudes  in 
the  endless  processions  of  heavenly  hosts  that  are  for 
ever  praising  God ! 

"Who  shall  lay  tax  upon  the  tongue,  or  upon  the 
thoughts,  in  such  glorious  visions  as  these  ?  "Who 
shall  criticise  or  regulate  the  prayer  that  springs 
from  such  experiences  as  these  ?  Let  a  man  arro 
gantly  teach  rain  how  to  fall,  or  clouds  how  to  shape 
themselves,  and  with  what  paces  to  march  their  airy 
rounds,  or  the  season  how  to  plant,  and  tend  and 
garner ;  but  let  him  not  teach  a  soul  how  to  pray, 
upon  whom  the  Holy  Ghost  thus  broods  and 
breathes ! 

3* 


58  THE    LIBERTY    0^    PRAYER 

They  to  whom  is  given  such  communion  cannot 
but  bear  the  burden  of  the  Lord  in  earthly  things. 
Christ's  cause,  and  glory  in  the  salvation  of  souls, 
will  oftentimes  move  their  prayers  with  deep  and 
inexhaustible  desires.  They  may  not  seek  such 
experiences.  They  do  .not  come  by  common  asking. 
They  are  given  to  them  who  are  one  with  Christ ; 
who  have  entered  into  such  sympathy  with  God, 
that  they  must  needs  bear  his  cross  and,  as  it  were,  be 
crucified  for  sinners. 

And,  in  like  manner,  God  makes  his  servants  to 
bear  the  burden  of  God's  cause  on  earth  at  large ;  so 
that,  at  times,  the  desires,  the  yearnings  and  prayers 
for  the  prosperity  of  Zion,  wTill  be  almost  more  than 
flesh  can  bear;  so  that  in  the  expressive  language 
of  Scripture,  they  travail  in  ~birth  for  God's  work  on 
earth  ! 

There  are  yet  other  modes  of  prayer;  but  who 
shall  frame  words  to  express  what  that  communion 
is  which  the  soul  holds  when,  in  the  fullness  of  its 
own  feeling,  it  overflows  with  praises.  It  is  appa 
rent  how  great  is  the  folly  of  those  who  decry  prayer 
as  being  useless,  inasmuch  as  God  knows  what  we 
need — as  if  asking  for  enjoyable  things  is  all  that  a 
soul  does  in  prayer.  What  if  a  man  should  have  an 
idea  as  ignoble  as  this  of  sounds  and  space,  and 
should  say  that  no  words  or  sounds  are  sensible,  or  of 
any  value  and  desirableness,  except  such  as  articu 
late  well-defined  wants ;  as  if  they  were  of  no  use 
in  exclamations  of  gladness,  in  tones  and  words  of 
joy,  in  the  mazes  and  tropical  exuberance  of  love,  in 
the  sweet  endearments  of  friendship;  as  if  they 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    PRAYER.  59 

were  of  no  use  in  music,  in  shouts  of  gladness,  and, 
in  short,  in  any  utterance  except  those  for  servile 
uses ! 

With  regard  to  forms  of  prayer,  these  are  of  use, 
and  are  proper  to  be  used  by  all  who  need  them  ; 
but  they  can  never  include  the  whole  of  that 
utterance  which  the  soul  should  express  to  God  in 
prayer ! 

Some  persons  are  often  troubled  respecting  fami 
liarity  and  irreverence  in  prayer.  But  it  should  be 
•emembered  by  such  that  the  confidence  of  love  is 
not  irreverence.  God  permits  his  people  to  plead 
with  him,  and  to  pour  out  their  confidence  freely. 
The  exhortation  is  explicit,  "  Let  us  come  loldly  to 
the  throne  of  grace  !" 

Some  are  discouraged,  when  after  continued  com 
munion  with  God,  they  do  not  find  any  such  range 
and  progression  in  prayer.  To  pray  is,  to  many,  like 
speaking  a  new  and  foreign  language.  It  must  be 
learned.  One  is  not  surprised  that  a  foreign  tongue 
is  slowly  and  brokenly  spoken  at  first.  Prayer 
gains  in  scope  and  richness  as  the  elements  of 
spirituality  increase  and  the  habit  of  expression  is 
formed. 


FAULTS     IN     PRAYER. 

PKIVATE  prayer  ought  to  be  regarded  as  a  plea 
sure  and  privilege,  not  as  a  duty.  But  public  prayer 
may  fitly  be  spoken  of  as  a  duty,  since  it  is  seldom 
that  one  would  of  choice  pray  publicly  for  his  own 
devotion,  but  only  because  it  is  his  duty  to  the 
brotherhood.  No  service  needs  more,  and  none  is 
susceptible  of  so  little,  improvement  by  means  of 
instruction.  This  is  an  exercise  in  which  men  cannot 
be  drilled.  It  is  ungracious  even  to  criticise  what 
purports  to  be  an  address  to  God.  Yet,  there  are 
some  suggestions  which  we  shall  venture  to  make. 

We  think  it  very  important  that  the  pastor,  or 
some  leading  officer,  should  be  faithful  with  the 
younger  members  of  the  church  in  pointing  out 
blemishes  and  faults,  which  may  easily  be  corrected 
at  first,  but  which,  if  suffered  to  go  on,  will  become 
ineradicable.  One  man  falls  into  a  whining  tone, 
another  prays  in  an  inaudible  whisper,  another  exalts 
his  voice  far  beyond  the  natural  conversational 
pitch,  and  others  lose  the  natural  tones  entirely,  and 
pray  in  a  kind  of  sacred  falsetto.  Some  talk  in  tenor, 
but  pray  in  base  ;  some  converse  in  upper-base  notes, 
but  pray  in  tenor  notes.  If  a  brother  first  speaks, 
and  then  prays,  a  stranger,  listening  from  the  out 
side,  would  think  two  different  men  had  been  speak 
ing.  This  habit  becomes  very  marked  in  the  minis- 


FAULTS   IN    PRAYEK.  61 

trations  of  clergymen,  many  of  whom  come,  at 
length,  to  have  a  conversation  voice,  a  praying  voice, 
a  hymn  voice,  a  reading  voice,  and  a  preaching  voice. 
Men  are  seldom  entirely  true  to  themselves  and 
natural  in  their  prayers.  There  is  a  certain  round 
of  topics  supposed  to  be  necessary  to  a  symmetrical 
prayer.  These  they  punctiliously  introduce,  whe 
ther  their  heart  craves  such  utterance  or  not.  Of  all 
forms  of  prayer,  extemporaneous  forms  are  the  worst. 
They  have  all  the  evils  of  written  prayers  without 
their  propriety.  If,  when  a  Christian  brother  were 
in  full  tide  of  prayer  along  the  regular  succession  of 
topics,  Christ  should  really  appear  before  him,  how 
extremely  impertinent  would  most  of  the  petitions 
seem,  addressed  to  a  living  and  visible  Saviour ! 
Thus  a  man's  real  feeling  is  not  expressed,  and  mat 
ters  quite  good  in  themselves,  but  almost  wholly 
indifferent  to  him,  constitute  the  bulk  of  petition. 
Reverential  tones  and  well-connected  sentences,  ex 
pressing  very  proper  ideas,  do  not  constitute  prayer. 
The  very  essence  of  praying  is,  that  it  conveys  the 
real  desires  or  thoughts  of  the  suppliant.  When  a 
man  really  reveres  God,  how  simple  is  the  language 
of  veneration !  But  if  his  heart  is  breaking  with 
sorrow,  or  depressed  by  care,  or  fretted  by  ill-adjusted 
affairs,  why  should  he  leave  the  real  strain  of  feeling, 
and  strike  into  a  false  key? 

It  is  remarkable  how  skillfully  men  will  contrive 
to  avoid  all  real  interests,  and  express  almost  wholly 
those  which  are  not  real  to  them.  A  man  prays  for 
the  glory  of  God,  for  the  advance  of  his  kingdom,  for 
the  evangelization  of  the  world ;  but,  in  that  very 


62  FAULTS    IN    PRAYER. 

time,  he  will  not  allude  to  the  very  things  in  which 
his  own  life  may  stand,  nor  to  the  wants  which  every 
day  are  working  their  impress  upon  his  character. 
The  cares,  the  petty  annoyances,  the  impatience  of 
temper,  pride,  self-indulgence,  selfishness,  conscious 
and  unconscious ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  the  glad 
nesses  of  daily  life,  the  blessings  of  home,  the  felici 
ties  of  friendship,  the  joys  and  success  of  life — in 
short,  all  the  things  which  one  wrould  talk  of  to  a 
venerable  mother,  in  an  hour  of  confidence,  are 
excluded  from  prayer  among  the  brotherhood. 
"Without  a  doubt,  there  is  to  be  reserve  and  delicacy 
exercised  in  the  disclosure  of  one's  secret  and  private 
experiences.  But  this  is  not  to  be  carried  so  far  as 
to  strip  prayer  of  all  its  leaves  and  blossoms,  and 
leave  it  like  a  formal  bush  or  tree  in  winter,  with 
barren  branches  standing  in  sharp  outline  against  a 
cold  sky. 

"VYe  must  enter  a  solemn  protest  against  the  desecra 
tion  of  the  name  of  God,  so  very  common  in  prayer. 
There  would  seem  to  be  no  necessity,  in  a  prayer  of  ordi 
nary  length,  and  upon  ordinary  occasions,  of  more  than 
one  or  two  repetitions  of  the  divine  name.  Instead  of 
this,  it  is  often  repeated  from  twenty  to  forty  times. 
Every  sentence  begins,  "  O  Lord  !"  Often  the  middle 
of  a  sentence  is  pivoted  upon  the  divine  name.  It  is 
made  to  be  a  word  on  which,  long  drawn  out,  men 
collect  their  thoughts  or  gather  breath.  It  is  a  word 
used  simply  to  begin  a  sentence  or  to  close  it  iip. 
In  short,  the  name  of  God  degenerates  into  a  mere 
rhetorical  embellishment,  and  is  the  wasteword  of 
the  prayer.  For  our  own  part,  prayers  interlarded 


FAULTS    IN    PBATEB.  63 

in  this  manner  are  extremely  repulsive,  and  even 
shocking.  The  prayer  of  intense  feeling,  of  uncon 
trollable  sorrow,  or  desire,  are  the  exception.  And 
no  one  would  shrink  from  any  repetition  of  the 
Divine  name,  which  seems  like  the  clinging  and 
pleading  of  an  earnest  and  yearning  heart.  !N~or 
can  we  consent,  any  more,  to  be  moved  by  the 
interjections  and  epithets  of  prayer.  Many  prayers 
are  rolling  full  of  O's,  and  the  voice  runs 
through  half  a  semicircular  scale  of  gracious  into 
nation  with  every  other  sentence.  It  is,  O  do  this, 
and  O  do  that,  0  send,  0  give,  O  bless,  O  help, 
O  teach,  O  look,  O  smile,  O  come,  O  forgive,  O 
spare,  O  hear,  O  let,  O  snatch,  O  watch— O  !  O  !  O  ! 
O  !  through  the  whole  petition,  with  every  variation 
of  inflection.  Some  O's  are  deep  and  sad  ;  some  are 
shrill  and  short,  some  are  blunt  and  decisive,  but 
more  are  long,  very  long,  affectingly  long  ! 

It  is  sometimes  painful  to  hear  men  getting  their 
prayers  to  a  close.  After  advancing  through  the  topics 
for  a  proper  time,  it  seems  as  if  it  were  thought  need 
ful  to  throw  in  a  collection  of  very  short  petitions,  or 
to  come  to  the  close  through  a  certain  cadence  of 
petitions,  until  at  last  the  gate  is  reached,  and  the 
man  comes  out  in  regular  style  through  the  "for 
ever  and  ever,  Amen  1"  And  so  habituated  have 
men  become  to  this,  that  a  prayer  that  begins  with 
out  a  certain  conventional  opening,  and  closes  with 
out  the  regular  gradations,  is  thought  singular  and 
irreverent.  The  familiarity  of  deep  feeling,  the  bold 
ness  of  love,  the  artless  sentences  of  unconscious 
sincerity,  are  to  some  undevout,  while  the  cramming 


64:  FAULTS    IN    PKAYEK. 

a  prayer  with  all  manner  of  conventionalisms  gives 
no  offence,  if  the  manner  is  only  solemn.  Solemnity 
is  a  mask  behind  which  levity  and  thoughtlessness 
heap  np  endless  fantasies.  It  is  the  arch-patron  of 
hypocrisy. 

The  use  of  Scriptural  language  in  prayer  becomes 
often  a  serious  vice.  Of  course,  when  fitly  used,  no 
language  can  be  more  elevated  and  appropriate. 
But  when  texts  or  scraps,  and  fragments  of  texts 
are  strung  together,  or  when  certain  favorite  texts 
recur  in  every  prayer,  long  after  they  have  ceased 
to  convey  to  the  hearer  the  thoughts  originally 
coupled  with  them,  the  use  of  Scripture,  instead  of 
edifying,  injures.  A  prayer  is  not  a  thread  on 
which  men  are  to  see  how  many  texts  they  can 
string. 

An  improper  use  of  figurative  language  in  prayers, 
is  a  source  of  positive  mischief.  "We  take  no  excep 
tion  to  figurative  language  when  it  springs  fresh 
from  the  imagination.  Then  it  augments  the  tide  of 
thought  and  feeling.  But  there  are  certain  figures, 
and  not  all  of  them  Biblical,  which  have  been  re 
peated  over  and  over,  until  all  sense  is  gone  from 
them,  except  a  false  sense.  They  come  to  be,  at 
length,  in  effect,  the  assertion  of  literal  truths.  And 
a  figure  that  was  meant  simply  to  kindle  the  imagi 
nation,  finds  itself  in  a  didactic  position,  teaching  the 
strangest  conceivable  things. 

Some  men  are  always  "  opening  the  windows  of 
heaven,"  "  raining  a  rain  of  mercy,"  "  laying  down 
the  weapons  of  rebellion."  "Stony  hearts,"  "un 
clean  hands,"  "  blind  eyes,"  "  deaf  ears,"  at  length 


FAULTS    IN    PKAYEK.  65 

transfer  the  thoughts  to  the  outward  symbol,  and 
quite  hide  the  inward  and  specific  spiritual  state. 
Some  men  never  say  humble,  or  humility,  except  by 
such  expressions  as  "on  the  bended  knee  of  the 
soul,"  and  going  down  into  the  valley  of  humili 
ation."  Many  men  have  apparently  forgotten  the 
name  of  Christ.  They  always  use  the  word  "  cross  " 
instead.  They  pray  to  be  reconciled  to  the  "  Cross," 
they  exhort  men  to  come  to  the  "  Cross,"  to  look  up  at 
the  "  Cross,"  to  lay  down  their  sins  at  the  foot  of  the 
"  Cross."  WQ  once  heard  an  ordination  sermon  of 
great  ability  upon  salvation  by  Christ,  in  which  that 
name  was  not  once  mentioned,  the  "Cross"  becoming 
the  synonym.  Had  a  heathen  stranger  been  present,  he 
would  have  supposed  the  name  of  the  God  whom  we 
worshipped  to  be  "  Cross."  This  is  the  more  unfor 
tunate,  because  it  not  only  sinks  the  power  of  a 
living  personality,  but  presents  in  its  stead  a  symbol 
which,  however  precious,  and  historically  affecting, 
may,  by  too  great  familiarity,  lose  entirely  from  sight 
the  Saviour,  and  leave  only  the  wood ;  a  relic  worse 
than  any  which  Romish  superstition  has  presented. 


AIDS    TO    PR  A  YE  E. 

"W~E  have  always  been  affected  by  the  petition  of 
the  disciples  to  the  Saviour,  "  Lord,  teach  us  how  to 
pray."  How  many  yet  would  fain  address  the  same 
request,  with  simplicity  and  conscious  want,  to 
Christ!  It  is  not  our  purpose  to  say  anything  to 
those  Christians  who  have  by  long  experience  learned 
the  way  of  prayer,  and  made  its  language  as  familiar 
to  them  as  their  mother-tongue ;  but  to  them  only 
who  are  vexed  with  the  troubles  incident  to  begin 
ning. 

If  the  first  moments  of  the  morning,  the  very 
first  thoughts  of  the  day,  are  given  to  prayer,  it  will 
be  found,  at  least  in  many  cases,  to  give  direction  to 
the  feelings  of  the  whole  day.  The  key-note  of  the 
day  is  struck  early.  And  simple  as  it  may  seem,  we 
have  forced  a  few  moments  in  the  morning  to  hold 
the  day  to  its  course,  as  a  rudder  does  the  ship. 
Some  persons,  we  suspect,  fail  of  interest  in  prayer, 
by  attempting  to  pray  by  the  clock.  ,  They  have 
been  taught  that  a  regular  time  and  an  appointed 
place  are  eminently  beneficial.  They  have  tried  the 
time  with  so  many  failures,  that  the  place,  by  associ 
ation  and  memory  of  ill  success,  becomes  disgustful. 
"We  are  not  about  to  say  that  punctuality  and  regu 
larity  are  not  good,  but  only  that  they  are  not  alike 
good  for  all ;  and  that  when  experience  shows  that 

G6 


AIDS    TO    PRAYERS.  67 

they  hinder  and  do  not  help,  Christians  are  under 
no  law  to  the  clock.  Persons  of  regulated  feel 
ings,  of  methodical  habits,  and  of  uniform  occupa 
tions,  find  great  advantage  in  stated  hours  of  prayer. 
People  of  mercurial  dispositions,  who  live  without 
special  arrangement  and  system,  will  find,  on  the 
contrary,  that  such  attempts  at  punctuality  will  not 
help  them,  except  as  an  exercise  in  method  and  regu 
larity. 

If  a  man  should  insist  upon  wallowing  in  the  sand 
when  the  tide  wTas  out,  because  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  bathe  in  one  place  and  at  one  hour,  he 
would  not  be  much  unlike  him  who  prays  when  his 
watch,  and  not  when  his  heart,  tells  him  the  time. 
Christians  are  to  remember  that  they  are  children  of 
liberty.  They  are  not  bound  up,  as  the  Jews  were, 
to  times  and  seasons,  to  places  and  methods.  Prayer 
may  become  a  yoke  of  superstition,  instead  of  the 
wings  of  liberty. 

It  may  be  briefly  said,  take  notice  of  the  time? 
wlien  prayer  is  refreshing.  Learn  from  your  ow_ 
experience  how  and  when  prayer  is  best  for  you. 
You  are  under  bonds  to  no  man,  be  he  minister  or 
layman. 

We  think  that  one  may  very  much  aid  himself,  by 
taking  a  few  moments  of  his  brightest  hours  for 
silent  prayer.  The  Jews  were  taught  to  present 
their  best  fruits  for  offerings.  We  should  not  choose 
refuse  hours,  good  for  nothing  else,  to  pray  in.  No 
matter  where  you  are,  nor  what  you  are  doing,  send 
a  glance  Godward  from  the  top  of  every  exalted 
hour — as  from  a  hill  top,  a  child,  going  home,  would 


68  AIDS    TO   PEAYER8. 

strive  to  catch,  a  glimpse  of  his  father's  house. 
In  this  manner,  after  a  little,  the  soul  would  lay 
up  remembrances  of  many  sweet  and  noble  expe 
riences,  and  would  fight  discouragements  by  hope 
drawn  from  past  success. 

We  suspect  that  many  persons  mar  this  enjoyment 
by  very  erroneous  ideas  of  quantity.  They  read  of 
eminent  Christians  who  pray  by  the  hour,  they  hear 
sermons  upon  the  wrestling  of  Jacob  with  the  Angel, 
and  above  all,  they  are  told  that  Christ  prayed  all 
night.  They  therefore  attempt  immense  prayer. 
Of  course  they  fail.  A  man  might  as  well  attempt 
to  imitate  the  old  prophets  who  ate  in  preparation  of 
forty  days'  fast.  If  a  man  is  moved  to  pray  only 
five  minutes,  it  is  his  duty  to  stop  there.  If  he  is 
moved  to  pray  an  hour,  he  is  at  liberty  to  do  so. 
But  in  every  case,  prayer  is  to  be  regulated  by  your 
own  inward  want,  and  not  from  the  outside  by 
somebody's  example.  Indeed,  we  meet  every  day 
with  persons  who  would  be  injured  by  long  praying. 
They  have  but  little  to  say.  If  Christ  were  on  earth, 
and  they  were  disciples,  they  would  listen  rather  than 
speak.  There  is  communion  by  thinking  as  well  as 
speaking.  There  is  unuttered  prayer  as  well  as 
vocal.  Thoughts  that  roll  silently  are  more  signifi 
cant,  often,  than  those  which  can  clothe  themselves 
in  words.  It  is  possible  to  pray  too  much.  That  is 
always  too  much  which  is  beyond  your  real  want  or 
desire. 

Christians  bring  themselves  into  trouble  by  very 
false  ideas  of  prayer.  They  select  impassioned  pray 
ers  as  models,  and  judge  themselves  to  be  praying  in 


AIDS    TO    PRAYEKS.  69 

proportion  as  they  approach  these  examples.  But 
what  if  your  wants  are  few,  your  feelings  tranquil, 
your  thoughts  simple,  and  your  whole  mind  and  ex 
perience  formed  upon  a  different  basis  ?  Is  prayer 
some  objective  exercise  to  be  copied  ?  or  is  it  the  pre 
senting  before  God  of  just  what  you  think,  feel,  or 
need  ? 

One  single  sentence  is  a  sufficient  prayer.  There 
is  no  one  wTho  cannot  command  his  thoughts  long 
enough  for  that.  If  your  thoughts  wander,  the  pro 
bability  is  that  you  are  trying  to  pray  too  much. 
Be  shorter.  Say  just  as  much  as  there  is  in  you  to 
say.  If  there  is  nothing,  say  nothing ;  if  little,  say 
little ;  silence  is  better  than  mockery.  Consider 
the  Lord's  prayer,  how  short,  how  simple.  It  con 
tains  the  whole  world's  want,  and  yet  a  little  child 
can  use  it. 

Accept  prayer  as  liberty,  and  not  a  bondage.  Use 
it  in  any  manner  that  will  be  of  profit.  Go  often 
and  tarry  but  a  little,  or  go  and  tarry  all  night, 
if  you  will,  upon  the  mount.  You  pray  if  there 
is  but  one  sentence — God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sin 
ner — just  as  freely  as  if  there  were  a  thousand  be 
sides. 


FOB  BAKING    GOD. 

WE  liave  known  men — upon  whose  grounds  waved 
magnificent  trees  of  centuries'  growth,  lifted  up  into 
the  air  with  vast  breadth,  and  full  of  twilight  at 
mid-day — who  cut  down  all  these  mighty  monarchs, 
and  cleared  the  ground  bare;  and  then,  when  the 
desolation  was  complete,  and  the  fierce  summer 
gazed  full  into  their  face  with  its  fire,  they  bethought 
themselves  of  shade,  and  forthwith  set  out  a  genera 
tion  of  thin,  shadowless  sticks,  pining  and  waiting 
till  they  should  stretch  out  their  boughs  with  protec 
tion  and  darken  the  ground  with  grateful  shadow. 
Such  folly  is  theirs  who  refuse  the  tree  of  life,  the 
shadow  of  the  Almighty,  and  sit,  instead,  under  the 
feeble  trees  of  their  own  planting,  whose  tops  will 
never  be  broad  enough  to  shield  them,  and  whose 
boughs  will  never  voice  to  them  the  music  of  the 
air.  Some  of  the  most  remarkable  figures  of  the 
Bible  are  made  to  illustrate  this  sad  truth. 

The  mountains  lift  their  tops  so  high  in  the  air  that 
towering  clouds,  which  have  no  rest  in  the  sky,  love 
to  come  to  them,  and  wrapping  about  their  tops, 
distill  their  moisture  upon  them.  Thus  mountains 
hold  commerce  with  God's  upper  ocean,  and,  like 
good  men,  draw  supplies  from  the  invisible.  And  so 
it  is,  that  in  the  times  of  drought  in  the  vales  below, 
the  rocks  are  always  wet.  The  mountain  moss  is 

70 


FORSAKING    GOD.  71 

always  green.  The  seams  and  crevices  are  always 
dripping,  and  rock-veins  are  throbbing  a  full  pulse, 
while  all  the  scene  down  below  faints  for  want  of 
moisture.  In  some  virgin  gorge,  unwedded  by  the  sun, 
these  cold  rills  bubble  up  and  issue  forth  upon  their 
errand.  Could  one  who  builds  his  house  upon  the 
plain  but  meet  and  tap  these  springs  in  the  mountain, 
and  lay  his  artificial  channels  to  the  very  source,  he 
would  never  know  when  drought  cometh.  For 
mountain  springs  never  grow  dry  so  long  as  clouds 
brood  the  hill  tops.  Day  and  night  they  gush  and 
fall  with  liquid  plash  and  unheard  music;  except 
when  thirsty  birds — to  whose  song  the  rivulet  all  day 
long  has  been  a  bass — stoop  to  drink  at  their  crystal 
edges !  And  he  who  has  put  himself  into  commu 
nication  with  these  mountain  springs  shall  never  be 
unsupplied.  "While  artificial  cisterns  dry  up,  and 
crack  for  dryness,  this  mountain  fountain  comes  night 
and  day  with  cool  abundance.  "While  others,  with 
weary  strokes,  force  up  from  deep  wells  a  penurious 
supply  of  turbid  water,  he  that  has  joined  himself  to 
a  mountain  spring,  has  its  voice  in  his  dwelling  night 
and  day,  summer  and  winter,  without  work  or  stroke 
of  laboring  pump,  clear,  sweet,  and  cheerful ;  run 
ning  of  its  own  accord  to  serve,  and  singing  at  its 
work,  more  musical  than  any  lute ;  and  in  its  song 
bringing  suggestions  of  its  mountain  home — the  dark 
recess,  the  rock  which  was  its  father,  the  cloud  which 
was  its  mother,  and  the  teeming  heaven  broad  above 
both  rock  and  cloud ! 

With  such  a  spring,  near,  accessible,  urging  itself 
upon  the  eye  and  ear,  how  great  would  be  his  folly 


72  FORSAKING   GOD. 

who  should  abandon  it,  and  fill  his  attic  with  a 
leaden  cistern,  that  for  ever  leaked  when  full,  and 
was  dry  when  it  did  not  leak !  Listen,  then,  to  the 
word  of  God :  "  My  people  have  committed  two 
evils  :  they  have  forsaken  me,  the  fountain  of  living 
waters,  and  have  hewed  them  out  cisterns,  broken 
cisterns,  that  can  hold  no  water." 

Man  is  not  made  to  be  independent  in  his  powers. 
"With  all  his  endowments  he  is  made  to  lean  on  every 
side  for  support;  and  should  his  connections  on 
either  side  be  cut,  he  would  droop  and  wither  like  a 
tree  whose  roots  had  been  sundered. 

The  eye  carries  no  light  with  it,  but  receives  its 
sight  from  the  luminous  element  without.  The  ear 
hath  no  sound  within  it,  but  only  receives  it  from 
without.  The  tongue  and  throat  beat  upon  the  air 
for  vibrations,  as  a  musician  strikes  for  musical 
sounds ;  and  if  hindered  in  their  connections  or  bro 
ken  from  their  dependencies,  ear,  tongue,  and  eye 
would  fall  back  into  voiceless  darkness.  And  every 
bodily  function  is  directly  or  immediately  joined  to  the 
physical  world  in  such  a  way,  that,  while  man  is  lord 
of  creation,  he  is  also  its  subject  and  dependent,  and 
must  ask  leave  to  exist  from  the  earth,  the  air,  the 
sun  and  the  clouds. 

These  dependent  relations  symbolize  the  yet  more 
important  relations  which  the  soul  sustains  to  God. 
Man  is  not  made  to  exist  in  rounded,  perfect,  and 
independent  spiritual  life  in  his  own  right  and  nature. 
He  only  is  a  perfect  man  who  has  himself  in  the 
embrace  of  God.  The  soul  only  when  divinely  brooded 
receives  its  power.  Our  faculties,  like  the  eye  that 


FORSAKING    GOD.  73 

must  be  filled  with  light  from  without,  wait  for  their 
power  from  above.  It  is  the  divine  energy  acting 
through  the  human  faculty,  that  gives  to  man  his 
real  existence.  ISTor  does  any  man  know  his  power, 
his  nature,  his  richness  of  emotion,  the  height  and 
depth  of  his  being  until  he  unfolds  under  the  stimu 
lus  of  God's  imbreathed  influence. 

What  is  that  effluence  ?  What  is  this  spirit  which 
acts  within  or  upon  the  soul  ?  I  will  tell  you  when 
you  will  tell  me  what  it  is  in  light  and  heat  that 
works  upon  the  root  to  bring  forth  the  stem ;  what  it 
is  that  works  within  the  stem  to  bring  forth  the  bud ; 
what  it  is  that  works  upon  the  bud  to  persuade  it 
into  blossom ;  and  what  that  mysterious  spirit  is,  that, 
dismissing  the  beauty  of  the  bloom,  holds  back  its 
life  in  the  new  form  of  fruit.  It  is  light,  it  is 
heat,  it  is  moisture,  it  is  the  soil,  it  is  the  plant,  it 
is  the  vital  energy  of  nature.  Thus  we  stand  throw 
ing  words  at  a  marvellous  change,  whose  interior  na 
ture  we  cannot  search  nor  find  out.  "  So  is  every  one 
that  is  born  of  the  Spirit." 

But  of  the  fact  itself,  it  is  full  of  blessedness 
to  know  that  the  soul  has  a  relationship  to  God, 
personal,  direct,  vital,  and  that  it  grows  and  blos 
soms  by  it,  while  it  languishes  and  dwarfs  without  it. 

The  body  grows  by  its  true  connections  with 
material  nature ;  the  social  affections  grow  by  their 
true  relations  to  men  and  society ;  and  the  spiritual 
powers  must  grow  by  their  true  relations  to  God. 
In  the  material  world,  the  roots  of  trees  are  in  the 
ground,  while  the  top  moves  freely  above.  But  the 
soul  roots  upward,  and  so  like  long,  pendulous  vines 


74:  FORSAKING   GOD. 

of  air-plants,  that  root  upon  tropical  brandies,  has  its 
liberty  down  towards  the  earth.  We  are  the  branches 
of  Christ.  "  As  the  branch  cannot  bear  fruit  of  itself, 
except  it  abide  in  the  vine,"  no  more  can  ye  except  ye 
abide  in  me." 

But  is  not  this  a  bondage  and  restriction?  To 
selfishness  it  may  be ;  but  not  to  love.  Selfishness 
grows  strong  by  shrinking,  for  concentration  is  the 
nature  of  selfishness.  But  love  grows  by  pressing 
outward  and  evolving. 

That  we  are  bound  to  God  is  as  great  a  restric 
tion  of  our  liberty  as  it  is  to  a  plant's  freedom  to 
be  held  by  the  sun ;  to  the  child's  liberty  that  the 
double-orbed  love  of  father  and  mother  bear  it 
up  from  cradled  nothingness  to  manly  power;  or 
to  the  human  heart's  liberty,  when,  finding  another 
life,  two  souls  move  through  the  sphere  of  love, 
flying  now  with  double  wings,  but  one  spirit.  No  man 
has  come  to  himself  who  has  not  known  what  it  is  to 
be  utterly  forgetful  of  self  in  loving.  And  no  man 
has  yet  learned  to  love  who  has  not  felt  his  heart 
beat  upon  the  bosom  of  God.  As  a  bird  born  in  a 
cage,  and  singing  there,  amid  short,  impatient  hops, 
from  perch  to  wire,  from  wire  to  ring,  and  from  ring 
to  perch  again,  so  is  man  unrenewed.  As  this  bird, 
when  darting  through  the  opened  door,  feels  with 
wondrous  thrill  the  wide  sweep  of  the  open  air,  and 
dare  not  sing  for  joy,  but  goes  from  ground  to  limb, 
from  lower  limb  to  higher,  until  the  topmost  bough 
be  reached,  and  then,  stooping  for  a  moment,  springs 
upward  and  flies  with  wild  delight,  and  fills  the  air 
as  it  goes  with  all  its  sounds  of  ransomed  joy — so  is 


FORSAKING   GOD.  75 

tlie  soul  that  first  learns  its  liberty  in  God,  and 
goes  singing  heavenward  in  all  "  the  light  and  liberty 
of  the  sons  of  God." 

He  who  forsakes  God  for  a  greater  liberty,  is 
like  a  babe  lost  from  its  mother.  They  who  refrain 
from  God  for  the  sake  of  pleasure,  are  like  men  run 
ning  from  the  free  air  to  seek  sunlight  amid  shadows 
and  in  dungeons.  They  who  withdraw  from  God 
that  they  may  have  wider  circuits  of  personal  power 
are  like  birds  that  forsake  the  forests  and  fly 
within  the  fowler's  cage,  to  find  a  larger  bound  and 
wider  liberty. 


A  RHAPSODY  OF  THE  PEN  UPON"  THE  TONGUE. 

WHEN  St.  James  says,  "If  any  man  offend  not  in 
word,  the  same  is  a  perfect  man,  and  able  also  to 
bridle  the  whole  body,"  one  is  at  first  surprised.  It 
would  seem  to  place  the  sum  of  virtue  in  a  very 
little  thing.  But  a  larger  experience  of  life  would 
change  our  opinion.  The  tongue  is  the  exponent 
of  the  soul.  It  is  the  flame  which  it  issues,  as  light 
ning  is  the  tongue  of  the  clouds.  It  is  the  sword  of 
anger,  the  club  of  brutal,  rage,  the  sting  of  envy.  It 
is  the  soul's  right  hand,  by  which  it  strikes  with 
wasting  power.  On  the  other  hand,  the  tongue 
is  the  soul's  voice  of  mercy,  the  string  on  which  its 
love  vibrates  as  music ;  the  pencil  with  which  it 
fashions  its  fairest  pictures  ;  the  almoner  of  its  gifts ; 
the  messenger  of  its  bounties ! 

By  speech  a  man  may  touch  human  life  within 
and  without.  !No  sceptre  has  such  power  in  a  king's 
hand,  as  the  soul  hath  in  a  ready  tongue ;  which 
also  has  this  advantage,  that  well  uttered  words 
never  die,  but  go  sounding  on  to  the  end  of  the 
world,  not  lost  when  seemingly  silent,  but  rising 
and  falling  between  the  generations  of  men,  as  ships 
rise  and  fall  between  waves,  hidden  at  times,  but 
not  sunken.  A  fit  speech  is  like  a  sweet  and  favorite 
tune.  Once  struck  out,  it  may  be  sung  or  played 
forever.  It  flies  from  man  to  man,  and  makes  its 

76 


A  RHAPSODY  OF  THE  TEN  UPON  THE  TONGUE.   77 

nest  iii  the  heart  as  birds  do  in  trees.  This  is 
remarkably  exemplified  in  maxims  and  proverbs. 
A  generation  of  men  by  their  experience  prove 
some  moral  truth,  and  all  know  it  as  a  matter  of  con 
sciousness.  By  and  by,  some  happy  man  puts  the 
truth  into  words,  and  ten  thousand  people  say,  He 
got  that  from  me ;  for  a  proverb  is  a  child  born  from 
ten  thousand  parents.  Afterwards  the  proverb  has 
the  liberty  of  the  world.  A  good  proverb  wears  a 
crown  and  defies  revolution  or  dethronement.  It 
walks  up  and  down  the  earth  an  invisible  knight- 
erra.nt  helping  the  needy.  A  man  might  frame  and 
set  loose  a  star  to  roll  in  its  orbit,  and  yet  not  have 
done  so  memorable  a  thing  before  God  as  he  who 
lets  go  a  golden-orbed  speech  to  roll  through  the 
generations  of  time.  The  tongue  may  be  likened  to 
an  organ,  which,  though  but  one  instrument,  has 
within  it  an  array  of  different  pipes  and  stops,  and 
discourses  in  innumerable  combinations.  If  one  man 
sits  before  it  not  skilled  to  control  its  powers,  he 
shall  make  it  but  a  monstrous  jargon.  But  when 
one  comes  who  knows  its  ways,  and  has  control  of  its 
powers,  then  it  becomes  a  mountain  of  melody,  and 
another  might  well  think  he  heard  the  city  of  God  in 
the  hour  of  its  singing.  The  tongue  is  the  key-board  of 
the  soul.  But  it  makes  a  world  of  difference  who 
sits  to  play  upon  it.  "  Therewith  bless  we  God,  arid 
therewith  curse  we  men."  It  is  sweeter  than  honey. 
It  is  bitterer  than  gall.  It  is  balm  and  consola 
tion.  It  is  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth.  It  is  a 
wand  that  touches  witli  hope,  and  lifts  us  up.  It 
is  a  mace  that  beats  us  down,  and  leaves  us  wounded 


78       A   RHAPSODY    OF    THE    PEN    UPON    THK    TONGUE. 

upon  the  ground.  One  trumpet,  but  Low  different 
the  blasts  blown  upon  it,  by  love,  by  joy,  by  humility, 
or  by  hatred,  pride,  anger  ! 

A  heart  that  is  full  of  goodness,  that  loves  and 
pities,  that  yearns  to  invest  the  richest  of  its  mercy 
in  the  souls  of  those  that  need  it — how  sweet  a 
tongue  hath  such  a  heart !  A  flute  sounded  in  a 
wood,  in  the  stillness  of  evening,  and  rising  up  among 
leaves  that  are  not  stirred  by  the  moonlight  above, 
or  by  those  murmuring  sounds  beneath ;  a  clock, 
that  sighs  at  half  hours,  and  at  the  full  hours  beats 
its  silver  bell  so  gently,  that  we  know  not  whence 
the  sound  comes,  unless  it  falls  through  the  air  from 
heaven,  with  sounds  as  sweet  as  dew-drops  make,  in 
heaven,  falling  upon  flowers  ;  a  bird  whom  perfumes 
have  intoxicated,  sleeping  in  a  blossomed  tree,  so  that 
it  speaks  in  its  sleep  writh  a  note  so  soft  that  sound 
and  sleep  strive  together,  and  neither  conquer,  but  the 
sound  rocks  itself  upon  the  bosom  of  sleep,  each 
charming  the  other;  a  brook  that  brings  down  the 
greeting  of  the  mountains  to  the  meadows,  and  sings 
a  serenade  all  the  way  to  the  faces  that  watch  them 
selves  in  its  brightness,  these,  and  a  hundred 
like  figures,  the  imagination  brings  to  liken  there 
unto  the  charms  of  a  tongue  which  love  plays  upon. 
Even  its  silence  is  beautiful.  Under  a  green  tree 
we  see  the  stream  so  clear  that  nothing  is  hidden  to 
its  bottom.  We  cast  in  round,  white  pebbles  to  hear 
them  plash,  and  to  see  the  crystal-eyed  fish  run  in, 
and  sail  out  again.  So  there  are  some  whose  speak 
ing  is  like  the  fall  of  jasper  stones  upon  the  silent 
river,  and  whose  stillness  follows  speech,  as  silent 


A  RHAPSODY  OF  THE  PKN  UPON  THE  TONGUE.   79 

fish  that  move  like  dreams  beneath  the  untroubled 
water ! 

It  was  in  some  such  dreaming  mood,  methinks, 
old  Solomon  spoke  :  "  A  wholesome  tongue  is  a  tree 
of  life."  And  what  fruit  grows  thereon,  he  explains, 
when  he  afterwards  says,  "A  word  fitly  spoken,  is 
like  apples  of  gold  in  baskets  of  silver," — beautiful 
whether  seen  through  the  silver  network  of  the  sides, 
or  looked  upon  from  above,  resting  their  orbed  ripe 
ness  upon  the  fretted  edge  of  the  silver  bed. 


AN  AGED  PASTOR'S  RETURN. 

IT  was  about  half-past  nine  o'clock  at  night  that 
the  conductor  upon  the  JSTaugatuck  Eailroad  train 
called  out  "Litchfield !"  AYe  stepped  out  into  the 
light  of  the  brightest  moon,  and  looked  about  only 
to  see  two  or  three  snug  houses,  and  a  little  bit  of  a 
station-house.  The  town  lay  four  miles  to  the  west, 
i.  e.,  by  daylight,  and  with  a  nimble  team.  It  was 
at  least  ten  miles  that  night.  But  we  did  not  care. 
Nothing  is  more  befitting  than  to  return  to  one's 
native  place  in  the  quiet  of  night,  and  with  the 
witchery  of  moonlight,  that  at  the  same  time  reveals 
and  dims  old  familiar  places.  It  was  thirty-one  years 
since  either  of  us,  my  venerable  father  or  myself, 
had  been  on  this  road.  We  had  been  back  to  the 
town  before,  but  had  approached  it  from  a  different 
point.  As  we  climbed  up  hill  after  hill,  the  driver, 
an  intelligent  man,  gave  us  the  names  of  the  places, 
and  what  power  was  there  in  many  of  them  to  evoke 
the  past,  and  bring  up  its  faded  scenes  in  a  pastor's 
heart!  Litchfield  was  a  large  township,  and  the 
inhabitants  were  in  neighborhoods  among  the  hills, 
arid  along  the  clefts  and  valleys.  It  was  necessary 
to  have  preaching  places  in  every  direction.  On  the 
Sabbath,  the  farmers  would  come  to  the  "town-hill" 
meeting-house,  but  during  the  week,  there  were 
lectures  and  conference  meetings  appointed,  in  turn, 


81 


in  every  neighborhood,  at  distances  from  two  to  six 
miles  from  the  centre.  As  we  rode  along,  the  aged 
pastor,  who  was  returning  to  the  scenes  of  his  early 
ministry,  was  full  of  recollections,  as  one  name  after 
another  was  called.  In  this  house  he  used  to  lec 
ture  ;  in  that,  he  remembered  an  affecting  funeral ; 
yonder,  he  used  to  hold  conference  meetings;  and 
all  the  region  about  was  storied  with  religious  inter 
est.  The  seventeen  years  which  Dr.  I/yman  Beech  er 
spent  in  Litchfield,  though  not  the  most  influential, 
perhaps,  upon  the  wrhole  country,  were  probably  the 
most  laborious  and  energetic  of  his  life.  Some 
passages  of  his  history  here  would  seem  almost  fabu 
lous  to  the  economical  workers  of  our  day. 

It  was  half-past  ten  o'clock  when  WQ  reached  the 
mansion-house.  The  Rev.  Leonard  Bacon,  jr.,  re 
ceived  us  cordially — the  fifth  pastor  who  has  suc 
ceeded  in  the  ministry  of  the  white-haired  patriarch 
whom  he  now  greeted.  In  the  thirty-one  years  that 
separate  these  two  ministries,  what  a  history  has 
transpired  2  And  as  the  young  pastor  led  the  aged 
one  across  the  old  common  to  his  house,  is  it  strange 
that  we  followed  with  more  thoughts  than  can  well 
be  put  into  expression  ? 

A  good  fire  blazed  on  the  hearth.  Blessings  on 
wood !  We  should  have  despaired  at  once,  had  \ve 
come  back  to  Litchfiela  to  find  a  coal  fire,  or  worse 
than  that,  to  find  a  black  hole  in  the  corner  of  the 
room  puffing  out  dry  heat,  instead  of  the  old,  hospi 
table  fireplace,  with  ashes  and  coals,  and  the  long- 
fingered  blaze  that  opens  and  shuts  its  red  palm  with 

every  grace  and  sleight  of  hand.     A  good  Litchfield 

4* 


82  AN  AGED  PASTOK'S  KETUKN. 

fire  of  Litclifield  wood,  even  if  it  was  only  the  first 
week  of  September,  was  the  very  fittest  banner  that 
could  be  spread  out  to  greet  us,  and  every  fold  and 
flicker  of  flame  brought  back  from  the  past  old 
shapes  and  long-buried  scenes,  that  used  to  flit 
round  the  fireplace,  years  ago,  before  railroads  were 
dreamed  of,  and  when  New  York  lay  a  week's  jour 
ney  from  us ;  when  the  old  red  or  yellow  stages 
came  once  a  day  from  the  north,  once  from  the 
south,  and  once  from  the  east;  when  the  drivers 
blew  the  horns  as  they  came  into  town,  and  boys 
heard  the  curling  notes  go  through  the  air,  and 
thought  that  a  stage-driver  was  the  greatest  man  on 
earth,  and  that  to  hold  four  reins  and  a  whip  in  one 
hand,  while  the  other  held  to  the  pouting  lips  the 
long  tin  horn,  noisy  at  both  ends,  was  the  most  won 
derful  feat  of  skill  ever  achieved  ! 

The  next  •  day  it  was  sent  out  far  and  wide  that 
Dr.  Beecher  was  in  town.  Though  the  great  body 
of  his  former  parishioners  had  passed  away,  some 
remained  that  were  old  when  he  preached  here.  As 
we  passed  the  graveyard  coming  into  town  my 
father,  pointing  to  it,  said,  "  There  is  the  congrega 
tion  to  which  I  preached  when  I  was  here  !"  Silent 
now  and  without  memory.  The  unconscious  assem 
bly  gave  no  greeting  as  we  passed,  but  kept  their 
long  Sabbath  without  bell  or  tithing-man !  But  some 
yet  remained  alive.  Men  now  of  fifty  years  were 
boys  when  my  father  left.  Those  who  blushed  to 
think  of  love  and  husband  yet,  now  rocked  their 
grandchildren's  cradle !  Those  who  were  then  in  the 
prime  middle  of  life  were  now  venerable. 


AN  AGED  PASTOR'S  RETURN.  83 

And  indeed  Litchfield  is  the  last  place  one  should 
settle  in  who  desires  to  go  early  to  his  rest.  It  seems 
difficult  to  obtain  release  from  earth  on  this  clear  hill 
top.  Men  are  counted  very  young  at  fifty,  and 
sound  at  seventy-five,  and  not  very  old  at  eighty. 
One  old  man,  near  ninety,  modestly  told  us  that  his 
mind  had  been  affected  by  a  shock ;  but  surely  he 
had  more  wit  and  sprightliness,  after  all  his  loss,  than 
most  men  have  to  begin  with.  He  was  peculiarly 
thankful  that  while  he  was  too  old  to  do  much  him 
self,  God  had  been  pleased  to  give  him  a  young  wife. 
She  was  only  seventy-five,  he  informed  us. 

A  man  past  eighty,  going  through  the  streets  to 
visit  all  the  fathers  and  mothers  in  Israel  that  had 
been  young  in  his  ministry  there,  was  a  scene  not  a 
little  memorable.  One  patriarch,  in  his  ninety-ninth 
year,  when  his  former  pastor  came  into  the  room, 
spoke  not  a  word,  but  rose  up,  and  putting  his  trem 
bling  arms  about  his  neck  burst  into  tears.  Did  he 
see  in  that  moment,  as  by  the  opening  of  a  door,  all 
the  way  he  had  walked  till  that  hour,  and  all  the 
companions  who  had  walked  with  him  ?  and  did  he 
feel,  standing  by  the  venerable  pastor,  two  old  men, 
how  few  there  were  that  yet  kept  step  with  him  upon 
the  bleak  way  of  life  ? 

Passing  his  own  former  home,  my  father  broke  out 
with  a  swing  of  his  arm,  "  Oh,  how  many  thoughts  and 
associations  hang  about  that  place  !  They  fill  the  air 
like  swarms  of  bees,  and  yet  I  cannot  speak  one  of 
them !" 

The  particular  errand  which  brought  us  hither 
was  a  lecture.  A  new  organ  was  to  be  bought.  All 


84:  AN     AGKD 

Litclifield  boys  were  permitted  to  lielp.  Our  contri 
bution  was  asked  in  the  shape  of  a  lecture,  arid 
it  was  soon  done.  Then  the  aged  pastor  came  for 
ward.  A  crowd  of  old  and  young  gathered  at  the 
pulpit  stairs  to  grasp  the  hand  that  had  baptized 
them,  or  had  broken  to  them  the  bread  of  life.  It 
was  a  scene  of  few  words.  One  wroman  gave  her 
name,  but  was  not  recognized  in  her  married  name. 
She  then  mentioned  her  maiden  name.  That  touched 
a  hidden  spring.  Both  burst  into  tears,  but  spoke  no 
words.  The  history  came  up  instantly  before  both, 
but  silently,  which  had  occasioned  the  pfeaching  of 
those  "  Six  Sermons  upon  Intemperance."  That  vol 
ume  is  in  every  land  on  earth,  and  in  many  lan 
guages.  It  is  preaching  and  working  with  unwast- 
ing  vigor.  Those  that  read  it  know  only  that  it  is  a 
cry  and  pleading  that  few  men  can. hear  without 
deep  feeling.  But  not  many  know  that  it  was  a  cry 
of  love,  the  utter  effort  of  a  heart  of  love  to  save  a 
dear  friend  imperilled,  or  two  friends,  rather,  closely 
related.  One  of  them  was  rescued.  These  sudden 
openings  of  memory  to  scenes  that  included  in  them 
the  strangest  experiences  of  life,  pictures  painted  on 
the  past,  with  strokes  of  thought  as  sudden  and  as 
revealing  as  when  the  lightning  at  night  opens  the 
heavens  and  the  earth  with  wide  sheeting  flash,  and 
shuts  again  with  obliterating  darkness,  cannot  be 
drawn  or  described  upon  paper. 

The  second  morning,  also,  was  memorable  for 
greetings,  and  conversations  whose  roots  were  forty 
years  deep  in  the  soil  of  the  past.  For  ourselves, 
we  hovered  about  as  a  mere  shadow  amon^  those 


AN  AGED  PASTOR'S  EKTUKN.  85 

who  Lad  a  right  to  be  principals  in  these  sacred 
meetings.  If  an  angel  could  write  all  that  tran 
spires  when  an  aged  warrior  in  the  church  mili 
tant  comes  back  to  the  earlier  fields  of  his  achieve 
ments,  and  meets  the  companions  of  his  toils, 
where  tears  and  prayers,  hopes  and  joys,  sorrows 
and  deaths,  and  troubles  worse  than  death,  were  com 
mon  experiences,  it  would  be  a  history  of  more  mat 
ter  and  depth  than  all  the  volumes  that  are  stuffed 
with  empires,  and  buffoon  kings,  and  prelates. 

Last  of  all,  as  we  departed,  it  was  fit  that  we  should 
stand  silently  by  those  stones  that  record  mother  and 
wife,  sister  and  son,  a  lonely  group  !  I  could  not  for 
bear  to  think  of  the  stream  and  its  contents  that 
has  flooded  between  the  two  points  of  time,  the  first 
when  I,  a  little  babe,  my  father  came  to  the  burial 
ground,  bearing  the  wife  of  his  youth  to  her  rest ;  and 
the  second,  when  leaning  on  my  stronger  strength,  his 
failing  steps  came  again,  and  probably  for  the  last 
time,  to  behold  the  grass  that  again  waves,  as  it  has 
yearly  waved  for  forty-six  years !  Between  these 
two  comings  hither,  then  and  now,  a  great  army  of 
events  hath  marched. 

While  witnessing  such  scenes,  it  is  strange  that 
one  cannot  foresee  a  like  experience.  But  men  sel 
dom  look  forward  to  see  old  age.  They  look  into  the 
future  with  young  eyes.  It  seems  very  vague  and 
doubtful  to  me  whether  I  shall  ever  walk  with  trem 
bling  steps,  and  bedimmed  eye,  among  early 
scenes,  an  old  man,  waiting  for  permission  to  o-o 
home ! 


LESSONS  FKCM  THE  TIMES. 

"  When  it  is  evening,  ye  say,  It  will  be  fair  weather  ;  for  the  sky 
is  red.  And  in  the  morning,  It  will  be  foul  weather  to-day  ;  for  the 
sky  is  red  and  lowering.  0,  ye  hypocrites  !  ye  can  discern  the  face 
of  the  sky  ;  but  can  ye  not  discern  the  signs  of  the  times?" 

EVERY  season  is  indebted  to  that  which  has  gone 
before.  Yet,  the  first  labor  of  the  new  life  of  grass 
is  to  push  away  the  old  and  overlying  growth. 
Many  trees  are  obliged  to  begin  the  spring  by 
casting  off  the  leaves  of  the  previous  year.  Thus  it 
was  in  the  moral  world  at  the  advent.  Christ's  first 
and  last  adversaries  were  those  who  represented  the 
religion  of  the  times.  They  were  the  men  who  were 
religiously  conceited ;  and  who,  under  the  pretence 
of  sanctity,  of  truth  and  the  venerableness  of  holy 
things,  refused  to  let  the  new  growth  come  on  which 
God  appoints  to  every  generation.  They  were  the 
religious  conservatives  of  that  day.  Clamorous  about 
the  truths  of  the  past,  and  very  ignorant  of  the  truths 
of  the  present,  they  seemed  to  think  that  all  of  God's 
teachings  to  this  world  were  already  issued ;  and  that 
they  were  the  King's  post,  in  which  these  teachings, 
sealed  up  like  letters,  were  to  be  conveyed  to  ano 
ther  generation ;  and  they  supposed  that  their  busi 
ness  was  that  of  sacred  mail-carriers,  to  convey 
unopened  and  unused  the  sealed  messages  of  God  to 
those  who  should  come  after  them. 


86 


LKSSONS    FROM   THE    TIMES.  87 

Of  course,  such  men  would  scorn  the  ethical  acti 
vity  of  their  age.  Men's  business  was  to  take  care 
of  the  legacy  of  the  past,  not  to  plough  and  sow  for 
new  harvests. 

It  was  this  kind  of  men  that  met  Christ  at  every 
step ;  that  were  shocked  because  he  ate  and  drank 
like  common  men  ;  because  he  went  among  common 
people,  and  thought  religious  truth,  not  in  the  con 
secrated  language  of  rabbinical  schools,  but  in  the 
vernacular ;  because  he  sat  in  their  houses  at  meat 
with  them  ;  because  he  gave  men  liberty  on  the  Sab 
bath  day,  and  declared  that  that  day  was  not  meant 
to  restrict  but  to  help  men ;  because  he  let  his  dis 
ciples  sit  at  the  table  with  unwashen  hands  ;  because 
he  preached  to  the  outcast,  and  took  the  side  of  publi 
cans  and  harlots  against  the  respectable  Pharisees  ; 
in  short,  because  he  took  the  part  of  religion  against 
the  religious  institutions  ;  because  he  took  sides  with 
religious  spirit,  which  is  always  young  and  vegetat 
ing,  against  religious  usages,  which  are  always  ven 
erable  in  proportion  as  they  are  nothing  else. 

It  was  against  this  kind  of  religion,  and  these  stub 
born,  conceited,  unlearning,  and  impracticable  reli 
gious  men  that  he  uttered  these  words.  Men  who 
had  apparently  never  suspected  that  God  had  any 
way  of  teaching  the  world  except  through  them  ; 
who  would  as  soon  have  looked  out  into  the  street  for 
gold  and  silver,  as  to  have  looked  there  for  divine 
revelations  ;  and  who,  when  God  sent  armies  to  Jeru 
salem  or  drove  them  away,  when  he  sent  the  yoke 
or  broke  the  yoke,  when  he  raised  up  world- wide 
commotions  or  gave  peace  to  the  foaming  waves  of 


88  LESSONS    FROM    THK    TIMES. 

contention,  heard  no  moral  lesson,  saw  no  divinity, 
but  looked  point  blank  upon  God's  providential  deve 
lopments  without  seeing  God.  They  were  yet  so 
attentive  to  that  voice  which  sounded  a  thousand 
years  before  upon  Sinai,  that  they  did  not  hear  the 
silent  thunder  of  God's  voice  now  in  their  own 
streets,  and  right  at  their  own  door ! 

Christ  rebuked  them.  He  put  their  conduct  in  a 
striking  light,  by  comparing  it  to  their  habits  in 
trifling  things.  The  state  of  the  weather  they  could 
judge  by  looking  at  the  elements  of  the  weather.  But 
the  state  of  God's  kingdom  in  their  midst,  while 
miracles  were  wrought,  truths  wonderfully  spoken, 
the  poor  relieved,  the  sick  graciously  healed,  and 
God's  law  of  love,  which  they  had  changed  to  stone, 
was  smitten  and  caused  to  gush  forth  with  divine 
water  for  the  poor  multitudes  that  lay  athirst  in  the 
community — from  all  these  things  they  never  sus 
pected  that  the  kingdom  of  God  had  come  nigh  to 
them. 

The  truth  to  be  remarked  is  this,  that  we  are  bound 
to  understand  God's  dealings  with  the  times  in  which 
we  live. 

Because  by  such  discreet  consideration  of  current 
events,  we  learn  the  nature  of  human  conduct,  and 
test  the  wisdom  of  various  courses. 

Because,  by  such  study,  we  come  to  right  appre 
hensions  of  God's  moral  government  over  this  world, 

It  is  a  thing  to  be  remarked,  how  little  benefit 
men  have  derived  in  the  long  experience  of  commer* 
cial  life. 

The   same   mischiefs   occur   every   ten   or  fifteen 


LESSONS    FROM    THE    TIMKS.  89 

years.  Courses  upon  which  the  Bible  pronounced 
sentence  two  thousand  years  ago,  are  entered  upon 
again  and  again,  as  if  nothing  were  known  of  them. 
God  has  spoken  to  him  who  hath  ears  to  hear,  upon 
the  nature  of  greedy  selfishness,  upon  unscrupulous 
devices  in  business ;  upon  making  haste  to  be  rich  ; 
upon  pride  and  hard-handedness ;  upon  deceit  and 
guile ;  upon  the  infatuations  of  hope,  and  the  supreme 
folly  of  unwarrantable  conceit ;  the  blessings  of  con 
tentment  ;  the  blessings  of  a  good  name ;  the  bless 
ings  of  God's  service  instead  of  mammon's  bondage  ; 
all  these  have  been  proved  over  and  over  again,  and 
yet  almost  without  impression. 

I.  It  is  remarkable  to  see  how  much  suffering 
comes  upon  men,  not  by  any  disease,  but  simply  by 
difficulty  of  commercial  breathing. 

If  the  human  body  be  stricken  with  fever  or  palsy ; 
if  cholera  or  plague  attack  it ;  or  if  the  sword  or 
bullet  smite  it ;  or  if  some  weight  fall  suddenly  and 
crush  it ;  or  some  secret  wound  draw  out,  drop  by 
drop,  the  blood — we  do  not  marvel.  There  is  a  cause 
adequate  to  the  effect.  But  if  you  put  a  man  into 
an  exhausted  receiver,  under  a  bell-glass,  without  a 
particle  of  air,  the  mischief  is  just  the  same.  No 
organ  suffers,  no  tissue  is  lacerated,  no  muscle  crushed, 
no  part  is  poisoned,  none  wrasted  or  drained  of  its 
vital  fluids,  and  yet  the  man  effectually  dies. 

The  course  of  affairs  among  us  has  not  been  dis 
turbed  by  the  unnatural  invasions  of  war.  The  har 
vests  have  not  failed,  and  famine  has  not  reached 
out  its  gaunt  hands  among  us.  Disease  has  not 
striven  in  our  midst,  nor  has  industry  ceased  for  lack 


90  LESSONS    FROM    THE    TIMES. 

either  of  legitimate  enterprise  or  proper  matter  for 
enterprise. 

And  yet  this  great  nation,  in  full  health,  with  un 
counted  abundance  of  harvests,  in  its  young  man 
hood,  stalwart,  eager,  hopeful,  is  suddenly  brought 
up,  and  trembles,  and  staggers,  as  if  it  would  lie 
down  in  faintness.  What  is  the  matter  ? 

It  is  the  want  of  air.  The  city  cannot  breathe. 
\  What,  then,  is  this  commercial  air,  which  is  so  need 
ful  to  life  and  activity  ?  It  is  the  faith  of  man  in 
man.  It  is  mutual  trust.  It  is  confidence.  This  is 
the  air  which  commerce  breathes.  And  now,  in  our 
midst,  although  there  have  been  indiscretions,  there 
have  been  none  which  the  country  could  not  bear 
almost  without  a  check.  Men  speak  of  overstocking 
the  market,  or  over-manufacturing,  of  over-importa 
tions,  and  of  extravagance  of  various  kinds.  I  do 
not  say  that  there  have  not  been  mistakes  in  these 
respects,  and  great  mistakes.  But  I  do  say  that  we 
are  too  strong  a  people  to  be  brought  into  such  con 
fusion  by  mere  mistakes  of  this  kind.  This  country 
has  such  vigor,  and  such  elements  of  power,  that 
surface  mistakes  will  never  damage  it  seriously. 
There  is  money  enough,  property  enough,  and  need 
for  goods  and  manufacturing,  but  men  are  all  para 
lyzed  to-day  chiefly  by  fear  of  each  other.  Men 
look  at  the  best  concerns,  as  in  times  of  siege  they 
look  at  bombshells,  expecting  that  every  one  will 
burst,  and  that  the  only  difference  between  one  and 
another,  is  in  the  length  of  the  fuse,  and  the  time  it 
will  take  to  burn  out. 

But  why  should  there  be  this   sudden   cessation 


LESSONS    FROM    THE    TIMES.  91 

of  confidence  ?  You  trusted  those  men  yesterday  to 
go  around  the  globe  with  your  money,  whom  now 
you  will  not  trust  to  carry  it  from  the  bank  to  the 
store  !  No  change  has  come  over  these  men.  They 
are  just  as  honest  now  as  then.  Their  morals  are  as 
good.  Their  business  is  as  safe.  On  whatever  foun 
dation  you  stood  five  months  ago,  the  materials  of 
that  foundation  remain  untouched  to-day.  Your 
ships  are  there.  Your  goods  are  there.  Your  shops 
are  there.  Yonr  neighbors  are  not  niggards  nor 
simulating  friends.  They  are  the  same  men  that 
you  always  knew,  just  as  good,  just  as  bad,  un 
changed  either  for  better  or  for  worse.  But  the  city 
is  under  a  spasm.  No  one  will  take  things  to  be  as 
they  seem.  No  one  trusts.  Every  one  doubts  and 
fears. 

Now  it  is  to  the  last  degree  important  to  inquire. 
Why  has  confidence  gone,  and  gone  so  suddenly  and 
so  completely  ?  Yesterday  it  blossomed  like  flowers 
over  the  field  ;  to-day  frost  has  fallen,  and  all  are 
black  and  drooping !  What  wind  has  sent  that 
withering  frost  ? 

In  reply  to  this  inquiry,  I  would  say  that  in  part 
this  panic  of  fear  is  without  proper  ground.  It  is 
the  overaction  of  causes,  of  which  I  shall  speak, 
which  are  real.  But  wre  have  not  stopped  at  the 
legitimate  potency  of  those  causes,  but  allowed  our 
imagination  to  carry  our  fear  headlong,  and  with  it 
our  confidence  in  each  other.  Merchants  are  now 
like  men  awakened  in  the  night  by  the  attacks  of  an 
enemy.  All  scream  and  run,  one  crying  out  one 
thing,  another  another,  all  stumbling  over  each 


92  LESSONS    FROM    THK    TIMK8. 

other  with  insane  fear.  Now  there  may  be  a  cause 
for  some  fear,  for  some  precautions,  for  some  earnest 
defence.  But  there  is,  and  there  has  been,  no  cause 
for  the  excessive  reaction  from  hope  which  has  taken 
place.  The  roots  of  business  are  sound.  There 
never  was,  upon  the  whole,  more  health  with  so 
much  life.  And  hundreds  of  men  will  be  upset  by 
nothing  but  because  they  are  run  against  by  af 
frighted  men.  Hundreds  of  men  will  go  down,  and 
lose  years  of  toil,  and  the  fruits  of  honorable  indus 
try,  for  no  adequate  reason  except  that  men  are 
scared,  and  in  their  unreasonable  affright,  like  per 
sons  in  a  crowd,  they  tread  each  other  down.  It  is  a 
shame ! 

I  am  not  in  business.  I  have  not  one  penny  in 
vested  in  stocks  or  goods,  and  never  had.  If  the 
market  touches  the  sun,  or  goes  to  the  bottom  of  the 
slough  of  despond,  it  carries  nothing  of  mine  with  it 
either  way,  and  I  am,  therefore,  not  biased  by  my 
interest.  And  I  look  upon  this  convulsion  and  trou 
ble  with  unfeigned  amazement,  as  reckless,  needless, 
wanton  cowardice.  The  business-men  of  this  coun 
try  are  suffering  at  this  hour  from  a  contagious 
cowardice!  The  whole  continent  is  unstrung  by 
nothing  but  fear.  Nothing,  I  say,  for  that  of  which 
I  shall  speak  by  and  by,  and  which  is  the  ultimate 
of  this  iniquitous  evil,  was  not  of  any  such  propor 
tions  of  power  as  to  justify  any  such  breadth  of 
effect:  and  fears  have  been  added  to  real  trouble  in 
such  unwarrantable  proportions  that  it  is  scarcely 
immoderate  to  say,  that  we  are  all  lightning-struck 
with  fear. 


LESSONS    FROM    THE    TIMES.  93 


4 


And  the  cure,  if  it  could  but  be  taken,  might  be 
effectual  in  one  day,  as  much  as  in  a  month  or  a 
year.  Hope  and  trust  to-morrow  would  set  the 
blood  going  again,  and  bring  color  to  white  faces. 
For  the  mischief  is  not  in  the  business,  but  in  the 
business-men — it  is  not  in  your  affairs,  but  in  you ! 

The  country  is  like  a  ship  under  a  stiff  gale  and  a 
rolling  sea ;  in  the  watch  of  night,  the  man  at  the 
wheel  and  the  watch  think  they  see  a  ghost,  and 
abandoning  their  post,  they  all  run  gibbering  and 
tumbling  headlong  down  the  hatchway.  The  ship 
falls  off  and  rolls  in  the  trough  of  the  sea,  until,  if 
some  one  does  not  help  her,  she  will  roll  her  masts 
out,  or  come  upon  her  beam  ends.  But,  if  there  be 
a  heart  of  oak  among  them  that  can  cure  these 
frightened  sailors  with  the  thunder  of  imperious 
scorn  and  indignation — if  they  will  go  again  upon 
duty,  seize  the  wheel,  set  the  sail,  and  bring  the  ship 
out  of  her  wallowing,  to  her  course  again,  all  will  be 
well !  And  I  speak  my  honest  conviction  when  I 
say,  that  all  which  the  country  wants  just  now  is 
manliness.  Your  banks  cannot  cure  you.  The  gov 
ernment  cannot  cure  you.  I  come  to  your  bed-side, 
and  feel  the  pulse,  and  I  pronounce  the  patient  to  be 
in  a  prostrated  condition,  from  causeless  excitement 
of  fear,  and  my  prescription  is — Let  there  be  men  for 
nurses,  and  give  them  large  doses  of  courage,  to  be 
taken  every  hour  until  the  blood  comes  to  the  skin, 
and  the  patient  can  use  his  feet.  Then  turn  him  out, 
and  say,  Rise  up,  walk,  and  work ! 

II.  But  there  was  a  beginning  to  this  fright.    There 
was  cause  enough  for  fear,  but  not  enough  for  fright. 


94:  LESSONS    FROM   THE   TIMES. 

• 

What  was  that  cause  that  destroyed  confidence 
and  paralyzed  hope  ? 

A  relaxation  of  moral  integrity,  and  a  special  de 
velopment  of  it  in  connection  with  the  management 
of  stocks,  and  the  vast  interests  which  they  represent, 
have  introduced  an  element  of  profligacy  and  un- 
trustworthiness,  which  threatens  to  move  the  foun 
dations  of  trust  of  man  in  man.  And  unless  there 
can  be  the  infusion  of  moral  integrity  in  the  trans 
actions  of  business-men,  in  the  immense  interests  re 
presented  in  markets  by  stocks,  unless  these  swamps 
can  be  drained,  and  a  highway  of  moral  integrity  be 
cast  up  for  men  to  walk  on  through  the  poisonous 
growths  of  this  forest,  the  land  will  suffer,  season  by 
season,  with  malaria,  and  commerce  will  never  be 
free  from  chills  and  fever,  until  moral  tonics  are 
used.  The  conscience  of  stock-dealers  needs  qui 
nine  ! 

The  boards  of  directors,  in  our  greatest  enter 
prises  of  this  kind— railroads— have  permitted  them 
selves  to  employ  the  power  for  selfish  ends,  by 
unscrupulous  methods. 

I  believe  myself  to  be  strictly  justified,  when  I 
say  that  the  revelations  of  the  last  ten  years  show 
that  in  the  management  of  these  great  andjigefiil^ 
corporations,  our  most  eminent  business-inenhave  ' 
not  scrupled  to  do  or  to  wink  and  connive  at  courses 
of  conduct  which  involved  directly,  or  indirectly, 
almost  every  crime  against  property  known  to  our 
laws.  I  aver  my  solemn  belief  that  most  eminent 
business-men,  banded  together,  and  acting  as  a  board 
of  direction,  have  pursued  methods  which,  if  a  single 


LESSONS    FKOM    TUK    TIMES.  95 

man  in  his  private  capacity  should  pursue,  would 
convict  him  irredeemably  of  crime,  and  crush  him 
with  ignominious  punishment. 

The  consequence  has  been,  that  one  of  the  most 
important — yea,  indispensable — elements  of  property 
in  this  land  is  so  associated  with  deceit  and  fraud 
that  it  is  likely  to  become  a  by-word  and  a  hiss 
ing  ! 

Now.  when  one  by  one  eminent  financiers,  who 
manage  these  interests,  all  at  once  like  a  midnight 
house  on  fire,  burst  into  conflagrations  of  dis 
honesty  ;  when  next  whole  corporations  are  detected 
at  games  of  swindling,  which,  if  practised  in  the 
park  with  a  thimble,  would  send  a  man  to  the 
Tombs ;  when,  yet  further,  it  is  found  that  banks  are 
inveigled  and  are  made  to  be  left-handed  partners 
in  schemes  that  will  not  bear  the  sun  ;  and  when,  yet 
further,  strong  business  men  are  discovered  to  have 
stepped  from  their  legitimate  calling,  and  to  have 
lent  their  names  to  devices  for  obtaining  funds  that 
are  unwarrantable  even  in  commerce,  and  utterly 
abominable  in  morals  ;  when  all  these  things  are  re 
vealed,  is  it  strange  that  men  do  not  know  whom  to 
trust  ?  and  that  men,  with  David,  "  say  in  their  haste 
that  all  men  are  liars  ?" 

Springing  from  this,  and  coupled  with  it,  is  the 
monstrous  and  over-bloated  sin  of  stock-gambling. 

There  is  no  more  sin  in  buying  and  selling  stocks 
than  in  buying  or  selling  bank  bills,  or  any  species 
of  property.  But  it  is  one  thing  to  buy  and  sell 
legitimately,  and  another  to  buy  and  sell  as  gamblers 
do. 


96  LESSONS  FROM  THE  TIMES. 

Many  honorable  men  pursue  an  honorable 
business  in  the  brokerage  of  stocks.  But  it  is  quite 
notorious  that  millions  and  thousands  of  millions 
of  dollars  of  stock  are  sold  every  month  under  the 
lawful  forms  of  the  Stock-Brokers'  Exchange,  which 
can  be  shown  to  differ  in  no  moral  or  material  re 
spect  from  undisguised  gambling.  It  is  not  neces 
sary  to  enter  minutely  into  the  distinctions  between 
right  and  wrong  in  buying  or  selling  stocks.  It  is 
enough  to  say,  that  he  who  buys  stock  as  a  lond 
fide  method  of  investing  his  funds,  looking  for 
dividends,  or  for  some  benefit  from  the  interest  re 
presented  by  the  stock,  buys  legitimately  and  with 
out  moral  blame.  But  that  whole  scheme  of 
buying  stocks  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  make 
money  upon  the  bet  that  they  will  rise  or  that  they  will 
fall,  is  a  scheme  of  gambling.  Men  that  do 
it  are  gamblers.  All  the  soft  names  on  earth  can 
not  be  dissolved  to  make  a  varnish  strong  enough 
to  cover  the  real  wickedness.  Men  will  resent  the 
imputation.  No  man  likes  to  be  called  a  gam 
bler.  But  the  way  to  avoid  the  title  is  to  avoid  the 
thing. 

In  this  gambling  game  the  whole  community  have 
more  or  less  participated.  Some  devote  their  time  to 
it.  Since  my  day,  I  remember,  I  think,  one  concern 
to  have  failed  four  times ;  it  fails  to-day,  is  on  its 
feet  to-morrow,  in  as  good  credit  as  ever.  For  when 
the  business  is  fraud,  and  the  customs  of  it  are  dis 
honesties,  it  does  not  take  a  man  long  to  repair  any 
little  cracks  in  his  reputation. 

Merchants  are  forsaking  their  legitimate  business, 


LESSONS   FROM   THE   TIMES.  97 

and  dabbling  in  this  pool.  Their  clerks,  following 
their  example,  gamble  too.  Simple  men,  seeing 
these  marvels  of  success,  venture  their  hard  earn 
ings,  and  go  to  gambling  likewise.  The  lawyer 
follows  suit ;  and  that  there  may  be  no  want  of 
moral  sanction,  ministers  of  the  Gospel  are  found, 
not  a  few  I  am  informed,  secretly  buying  and  selling 
stocks. 

Now  when  the  company  themselves  are  gigantic 
speculators  by  fraudulent  and  dishonest  means ;  and 
when  the  stock  of  the  company  goes  up  and  down 
the  street,  carrying  in  its  hand  a  bowl  drugged  with 
gambling,  and  crowds  rush  to  drink  its  intoxication, 
is  it  strange  that  at  length  the  head  is  sick,  the  whole 
body  faint,  and  that  the  commonwealth  lies  at  length 
upon  the  ground,  wallowing  like  one  possessed,  foam 
ing,  and  rending  itself? 

It  is  supposed  that  there  are  one  thousand  million 
dollars  invested  in  railway  property.  Can  this  moun 
tain  of  power  be  used  against  good  morals,  against 
commercial  prudence,  and  the  country  not  reel  and 
stagger?  Can  this  prodigious  weight  be  cast  rudely 
hither  and  thither  upon  the  deck  and  the  keel  lie 
level?  There  is  not  an  honest  man  in  the  land 
patiently  conducting  a  legitimate  business,  who 
is  not  in  the  power  of  these  irregular  forces.  There 
can  be  no  permanent  security,  if  financiers  can, 
at  pleasure,  draw  up  such  enormous  elements  of 
power,  and  hold  them  suspended,  like  water-spouts, 
to  burst  and  flood  down  desolation  the  moment  they 
are  touched  with  misfortune.  And  if  commercial 
men  will  not  draw  tight  the  reins  of  morals  upon 


98  LESSONS    FROM    THE    TIMES. 

these  unprincipled  men,  they  will  have  their 
own  neglect  to  thank  for  the  mischiefs  which 
will  have  come  upon  them  in  some  sense  "by  their 
connivance. 

III.  Now,  what  lessons  do  these  times  teach  ? 
1.  We  are  to  learn  that  commercial  prosperity 
stands  indissolubly  connected  with  puhlic  morals. 
In  their  heat,  men  cast  aside  moral  scruples,  as  one 
would  throw  off  his  garments  in  a  race.  Where 
everybody  sins  together,  men  fondly  think  that  their 
concord  is  a  law  of  nature.  Little  by  little  success 
domineers  over  conscience.  The  permission  of  cus 
tom,  the  sole  condition  of  accomplishing,  the  fact  of 
accruing  wealth,  with  its  praise  and  influence  and 
power,  these  overrule  moral  considerations,  and  men 
do  not  hesitate  to  violate  rectitude  by  ranks  and  mul 
titudes.  They  systematize  selfishness  and  organize 
injustice. 

But  all  seeds  demand  time  between  sowing  and 
reaping.  "When  first  sown,  thistles  are  as  good  as 
corn.  °But  when  the  reaping-time  comes,  they  that 
sow  grain  shall  carry  their  bosom  full  of  sheaves, 
and  they  that  sow  thistles  shall  have  their  skins 
pierced  full  of  spines  and  poisonous  prickles.  In 
commercial  intoxication  it  is  as  in  drunkenness  by 
strong  drink— first  the  pleasing  exhilaration,  but 
afterwards  the  bursting  headache. 

No  class  of  men  are  more  interested  in  a  high  tone 
of  public  morals  than  business  men.  Their  life 
depends  upon  credit  as  much  as  their  bodily  life 
stands  in  air  fit  to  breathe. 

Credit  demands  the   solid  rock  of  integrity.     It 


LESSONS    FROM   THE   TIMES.  99 

will  not  stand  upon  the  shifting  sands  of  custom. 
The  merchant  should  be  a  Puritan.  "Whoever  else 
may  permit  the  public  conscience  to  be  tampered 
with,  the  merchant  is  interested,  by  the  whole  force 
of  self-interest,  that  the  consciences  of  men  touch 
God,  and  anchor  there  beyond  the  reach  of  tempta 
tion.  To  tamper  with  the  sanctity  of  the  divine  law, 
to  admit  anything  to  be  higher  in  human  affairs  than 
religious  rectitude,  is  preparation  for  unfaith  and  un- 
trust  of  man  to  man. 

The  merchant  that  destroys  good  morals  plucks 
off  the  planks  from  the  bottom  of  the  ship  which 
carries  him  and  all  his  goods.  He  will  founder.  He 
will  be  carried  down,  sooner  or  later,  by  inevitable 
leakage. 

2.  Public  indifference  to  immoralities,  will  be 
avenged  as  if  it  were  participation.  The  bills 
which  wicked  men  draw  against  the  public  trea 
sury  to  pay  for  their  crimes  and  vices,  are  always 
indorsed  by  the  virtuous  men  of  the  community; 
and  in  the  end,  the  sober  always  pay  for  the 
intemperate ;  the  pure  pay  the  expenses  of  the 
debauched ;  the  honest  man  pays  for  the  knave's 
debts ;  the  working  and  frugal  man  pays  for  the 
indolent  and  spendthrift ;  and  in  such  times  as 
these  it  is  seen  that  the  headlong  and  swindling 
speculators  run  the  commercial  world  into  desperate 
straits,  and  then  the  criminals  step  aside,  and  the 
sound  men  take  the  burden  and  carry  it.  In  pros 
perous  times  men  attend  to  their  own  business  and 
will  not  be  troubled  with  public  interests.  This  is  a 
selfishness  which  God  never  will  forget.  In  their 


100  LESSONS    FROM   THE   TIMES. 

hour  of  distress  they  find  out  that  indifference  to  pub 
lic  morals  is  itself  a  crime,  and  that  Providence,  in 
due  season,  punishes  honest  and  good  men  for  the 
misconduct  of  wicked  men,  which  they  could  have 
prevented  but  would  not. 

3.  These  are  the  times  for  men  to  detect  unnamed 
vices  and  crimes,  and  give  them  their  place  and  pro 
per  designation  on  the  list  of  evils. 

In  all  vigorous  communities,  where  enterprise  at 
tempts  new  things,  by  new  measures,  we  may  be 
sure  that  selfishness  will  pioneer  conscience.  Many 
things  will  be  done,  as  now  we  clearly  see  they  have 
been  done,  which  are  wrong  to  the  last  degree.  But 
because  men  had  not  yet  analyzed  them  or  sat  in 
judgment  upon  them  by  moral  rules,  they  were  per 
mitted  to  go  on  as  if  right  and  permissible. 

God's  providence  judges  human  conduct  before 
men's  consciences  do.  And  we  find  out  what  is 
wrong  by  the  punishment  with  which  we  are  sur 
prised,  rather  than  by  the  use  of  our  moral  judgment. 
It  is  a  shame  that  God's  whip  should  have  to  be  a 
better  judge  and  interpreter  of  rectitude  than  a 
Christian  man's  conscience. 

4.  These  times  ought  to  point  out  the  attention  of 
men  to  the  sure  punishment  of  greediness.     Haste 
to  be  rich  comes  more  speedily  through  the  stage 
in  which  they  give  equivalents,  of  skill,  or  benefit, 
for  wealth   received,  into   the   always  wicked   and 
demoralizing  stage  in  which  men   desire  to   enter 
without    giving  fair   equivalents  for  gains.       This 
appetite  has  no  bounds  when  once  planted.     It  is 
a  raging  fever  of  avarice.     It  is  the  peculiar  disease 


LESSONS    FROM   THE    TIMES.  101 

of  speculators,  of  stock-gamblers,  and  of  all  other 
gamblers.  A  man  who  deliberately  purposes  to 
gain  wealth  without  earning  it  by  some  substantial 
equivalent  rendered  to  the  community,  is  a  thief. 
He  may  be  called,  down  here,  by  much  softer 
names.  But  above  he  is  unceremoniously  called 
thief.  Nor  is  God's  justice  silent  or  motionless. 
"While  these  men  are  ripening,  the  sickle  is  patient ; 
but  that  is  all  that  it  waits  for.  "Where  now  are  all 
the  eager  financiers  ?  "Where  are  those  inflated  spec 
ulators  that  use  God's  great  round  of  time  and  provi 
dence  as  a  gambler's  box  to  throw  their  dice  with, 
who  venture  a  penny,  and  rise  from  the  table  with 
uncounted  gold  ?  Where  are  these  greedy  men  and 
their  greedy  associates,  and  where  are  their  gains 
now  ?  "  He  that  hasteth  to  be  rich  hath  an  evil  eye, 
and  considereth  not  that  poverty  shall  come  upon 
him."  God  has  written  these  words  so  high  up  that 
all  financiering  hands  that  reach  around  the  world 
greedily  cannot  reach  to  rub  them  out.  And  every 
generation  of  men,  whether  they  like  the  ritual 
or  not,  are  compelled  to  say,  Amen.  At  this  time, 
men  are  affirming  this  truth  with  deep  and  bitter 
pronunciation. 

The  ship  that  was  struck  by  this  mighty  gale  and 
well-nigh  overturned,  is  already  righting.  May  we 
not  hope  that  the  worst  is  passed  ?  Already  streaks 
of  light  are  appearing.  There  will  yet  be  a  struggle, 
but  the  fierceness  of  it  is  over.  Some  will  yet  go 
down,  but  those  who  are  strong  will  stand ;  and  now, 
if  there  be  Christians  among  these  thousand  mer 
chants,  who  can  rise  a  little  above  their  own  selfish 


102  LESSONS    FROM   THE   TIMES. 

ness,  and,  though  in  distress,  go  to  help  their  fellows, 
how  true  and  devout  a  gospel  shall  such  disinterested 
and  heroic  conduct  be  !  There  is  many  and  many  a 
friend  whom  you  may  cheer,  encourage,  and  help  ; 
and  your  coining  to  such  in  this  stormy  hour,  will  be 
to  them  almost  like  Christ  walking  on  the  sea  in 
the  night  and  tempest,  pressing  down  the  waves 
to  tranquillity  with  his  feet,  and  casting  serenity 
into  the  storm  from  the  peace  of  his  own  divine 
face. 

~Not  again  in  a  man's  lifetime  may  it  be  permitted 
him  to  do  so  much  for  God  and  Christ,  by  heroic 
endurance,  by  cheerfulness  amid  danger  by  helpful 
ness  when  the  instincts  of  men  would  make  them  sel 
fish. 

Good  men!  true  men!  Christian  men!  all!  take 
hold  of  hands,  put  shoulder  to  shoulder,  stand  and 
make  others  stand!  After  a  little  more  trial  you 
shall  come  forth  as  Nelson's  ships  came  from  the 
smoke  of  battle,  pierced  and  crippled  it  may  be,  but 
floating  still,  and  able  to  float ;  and  afterwards, 
every  shot,  every  wound  and  every  loss  shall 
be  healed  by  victory,  and  then  become  insignia 
of  glory!  "The  night  is  far  spent,  the  day  is  at 
hand." 


CHRISTIAN    CONSOLATION. 

DURING  the  summer,  on  western  rivers,  as  you 
are  riding  or  even  wading  across  the  ford,  you  may 
see,  lying  a  little  below  you,  great  flat-bottomed 
boats,  used  for  ferrying.  During  the  summer,  while 
waters  are  low,  and  men  can  cross  without  help  and 
without  danger,  these  craft  lie  moored  to  the  shore 
with  nothing  to  do.  But  when  heavy  rains  have 
swollen  the  river,  and  the  ford  is  drowned  out,  so 
that  no  man  may  dare  to  venture  it,  then  travellers 
are  glad  to  see  the-clumsy  boat  swung  round,  and  by 
cords  and  poles  forced  across  the  swift  running 
waters  for  the  convenience  of  those  who  must 
pass  over. 

All  our  emergencies  are  like  streams.  So  long 
as  we  can  cross  them  without  help  we  use  the  ford. 
But  when  our  aifairs  are  beyond  our  own  skill  or 
strength,  God  sends  round  his  promises  which  had 
lain  along  the  shore,  tied  up  and  disused,  to  bear  us 
over  the  black  swelling  waters.  And  blessed  is  he 
who  is  willing  and  able  to  venture  across  real  trou 
bles  upon  God's  staunch  promises. 

In  times  of  trouble,  every  Christian  man  will  find 
wonderful  comfort  in  the  psalms  of  David.  Now 
their  true  colors  will  shine  out.  The  psalms  are  like 
diamonds,  which,  though  bright  in  the  daylight,  do 

103 


104  CHRISTIAN    CONSOLATION. 

not  give  forth  their  peculiar  brilliance  until  night 
and  artificial  light  cause  them  to  flash.  And  so  are 
those  great  lyrics  of  the  world  sung  not  to  any 
lover's  lute,  or  even  Homeric  harp,  but  sung  from 
the  chords  of  the  soul  itself  when  God  played  upon 
it.  They  are  deep  as  human  life,  wide  as  the  earth, 
and  far  reaching  as  immortality.  And  in  times  of 
trouble  men  ought  to  walk  in  the  garden  of  this  Book 
and  comfort  themselves  with  its  fruits  and  flowrers. 

It  is  not  the  design  of  God's  promises  to  help  us 
so  long  as  we  can  help  ourselves.  They  are  like 
defensive  arms  which  men  wear  in  a  wilderness 
among  robbers,  not  to  be  fired  incessantly,  but 
hidden  for  emergency,  and  then  brought  forth  for 
self-protection. 

They  are  like  a  mountaineer's  staff,  though  good 
for  level  ground,  not  meant  specially  for  that ;  but 
to  be  relied  on  chiefly  among  rocks  and  sharp  accliv 
ities. 

What  is  a  man's  faith  in  God  good  for,  which  only 
holds  him  up  when  he  can  hold  himself  up  without 
help,  and  breaks  under  him  when  he  needs  to  lean 
upon  it?  What  is  a  belief  in  God's  special  and 
particular  providence  worth,  if  it  applies  only 
to  fair  weather,  and  dissolves  in  storms  of  trou 
ble  ? 

If  one  will  go  back  to  the  prophets,  to  David's 
experiences,  he  wrill  find  that  God's  promises  were 
first  made  to  men  in  the  most  bitter  trials.  They 
are  not  summer  promises.  They  are  not  general  nor 
indefinite.  They  were  made  to  touch  exactly  such 
cases  as  yet  occur  every  day. 


CHRISTIAN   CONSOLATION.  105 

Are  hopes  ever  baffled  ?  God  has  balm  for  that. 
Is  an  honest  pride  sorely  wounded?  God  has 
spoken  consolation  for  that.  Is  a  man's  good  name 
shot  at  ?  That  too  has  been  done  to  ten  thousand 
men  before,  and  God  girded  them  with  promises 
which  held  them  up.  The  men  have  died,  but  their 
charmed  girdles  are  left.  God's  armory  is  full  of 
them. 

Do  your  enemies  triumph  over  you?  There 
are  blessings  thick  as  spring  flowers  among  old 
grasses  for  those  who  suffer  evil  and  bear  it  pa 
tiently. 

Now,  while  men  are  rowing  in  darkness,  and 
upon  a  dreadful  sea,  they  may  expect  to  see  Christ 
coming  to  them  walking  upon  the  water.  Or,  it 
may  be  that  he  is  already  in  the  ship  and  needs 
only  the  uprousing  of  their  grief  and  prayer  to  come 
forth  upon  the  elements,  sovereign  over  their  wild 
tumult ! 

Methinks  I  hear  Christ  saying  to  all  his  dis 
ciples  the  very  words  which  he  variously  pro 
nounced  while  upon  earth.  Some  are  beseech 
ing  him  to  relieve  their  fear  and  bring  back  pros 
perity.  They  cannot  bear  the  thorn  in  their 
side  that  threatens  to  reach  their  heart.  But 
Christ's  answer  is,  I  will  not  remove  the  trouble, 
but  my  grace  shall  be  sufficient  to  enable  you  to 
bear  it. 

Another  bewails  his  misfortunes,  and  cries  out, 
" Lord,  why  is  this?"  The  reply  is,  "The  servant  is 
not  greater  than  his  Lord.  It  is  enough  for  the 
disciple  that  he  be  as  his  Master,  and  the  servant  as 

5* 


106  CHRISTIAN   CONSOLATION. 

his  Lord."  None  of  us  are  reduced  as  low  as  was 
Christ  for  our  sakes.  And  it  is  a  comfort  to  every 
penitent  heart  to  feel,  at  each  step  down,  that  he 
is  not  going  away  from  light  and  love  but  towards 
them. 

Christ  lives  near  the  bottom  of  human  life,  and 
that  way  lies  the  gate  of  heaven.  They  who  abase 
themselves  are  going  towards  God.  And  when 
Christian  men  are  going  down,  step  by  step,  nearer 
the  bottom,  let  them  say,  "why  not?  why  should  I 
demand  for  myself  what  my  Lord  and  my  God  gave 
up  freely  for  my  sake  ?" 

Men  often  put  questions  the  wrong  way,  and 
when  they  are  bereaved,  they  say,  "Why  should  I 
be  afflicted?  "When  they  meet  losses,  they  say, 
Why  should  I  have  such  misfortunes  ?  But,  would 
it  not  be  soberer  and  more  sensible  if  men  should 
say,  Why  should  not  I  have  trouble  ?  Am  I  not  a 
man  in  a  world  of  trial  ?  Am  I  too  good  to  be 
touched?  Shall  all  God's  elect  since  the  world 
began  drink  of  the  bitter  cup,  and  I  claim  exemp 
tion?  What  have  I  done  that  God  should  honor 
me  ?  What  use  have  I  made  of  my  strength  and 
wealth,  that  I  should  demand  their  continuance? 
How  have  I  brought  up  my  children,  that  I  should 
be  surprised  if  God  withdrew  them  from  me,  and 
placed  them  in  his  own  bosom  ?  Shall  Christ  walk 
in  poverty,  and  I  disdain  that  experience  ?  Shall  he 
not  have  whereon  to  lay  his  head  even,  and  I  com 
plain  in  the  midst  of  home,  food,  comfort,  and  love  \ 
How  very  good  a  man  must  be,  who  can  afford  to 
be  surprised  when  God  unclothes  him  of  superfluous 


CHRISTIAN    CONSOLATION.  107 

wealth,  and  makes  him  walk  as  near  to  the  edge  of 
necessity  as  the  best  men  of  the  world  have  done 
before,  and  still  do  ! 

We  are  not  to  affect  stoical  indifference,  and  still 
less  rail  out  bitterly  at  wealth  ;  and  seek,  thus,  to  cover 
over  our  disappointment  by  a  false  pretence  of  anger. 
How  much  better  is  Paul's  spirit  (Phil,  iv.  11),  "I 
have  learned,  in  whatsoever  state  I  am,  therewith  to  be 
content.  I  know  both  how  to  be  abased,  and  I  know 
how  to  abound.  I  am  instructed  both  to  be  full  and 
to  be  hungry,  both  to  abound  and  to  suffer  need.  I 
can  do  all  things  through  Christ  that  strengthen eth 
me."  Which  of  these  extremes  is  the  more 
difficult,  it  is  not  our  purpose  to  consider.  Far  more 
difficult  than  either  is  the  spirit  that  can  play  back 
and  forth  between  them  both.  A  Christian  man's 
life  is  laid  in  the  loom  of  time  to  a  pattern  which  he 
does  not  see,  but  God  does  ;  and  his  heart  is  a  shut 
tle.  On  one  side  of  the  loom  is  sorrow,  and  on  the 
other  is  joy ;  and  the  shuttle  struck  alternately  by 
each,  flies  back  and  forth,  carrying  the  thread,  which 
is  white  or  black,  as  the  pattern  needs  ;  and,  in  the 
end,  when  God  shall  lift  up  the  finished  garment  and 
all  its  changing  hues  shall  glance  out,  it  will  then 
appear  that  the  deep  and  dark  colors  were  as  need 
ful  to  beauty  as  the  bright  and  high  colors. 

Meanwhile,  as  God's  children  are  going  through 
unwonted  and  bitter  trials,  it  is  affecting  to  see 
with  what  royal  tenderness  God  stoops  to  comfort 
them.  As  a  parent  that  convoyed  his  flock  of 
children,  in  a  flight  by  night,  from  a  savage  foe, 
would  whisper  words  to  this  one,  and  cheer  that 


108  CHRISTIAN    CONSOLATION. 

one — now  lifting  up,  and  *then  for  a  little  way  even 
carrying  some,  meanwhile  encouraging  them,  and 
saying,  it  will  soon  be  light,  hold  on,  and  hold 
out,  my  brave  children,  we  are  almost  through ;  so 
God  hovers  about  his  flock  in  days  of  sore  adversity, 
saying,  "Be  of  good  cheer;  because  I  live  ye  shall 
live  also ;  I  will  never  leave  you  nor  forsake  you. 
I  am  not  angry,  nor  gone  away  from  you ;  I  chasten 
because  I  love  you.  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he 
chasteneth.  Ye  are  my  sons.  Cast  all  your  cares 
upon  me,  for  I  care  for  you.  Let  not  your  hearts  be 
troubled,  neither  be  ye  afraid.  If  God  be  for  you, 
who  can  be  against  you.  Think  it  not  strange  con 
cerning  this  fiery  trial,  as  if  some  strange  thing 
had  befallen  you.  Since  the  world  began,  I  have 
scourged  every  son  that  I  ever  received.  Blessed  is 
he  that  endureth  affliction.  To  him  that  overcometh 
I  will  give  to  eat  of  the  tree  of  life,  which  is  in  .the 
midst  of  the  Paradise  of  God  !" 

Wherefore  comfort  one  another  with  these  w^rds  ! 


TROUBLES. 

WHOEVER  enters  this  world  with  an  expectation 
of  finding  or  making  a  life  of  uninterrupted  joy,  will 
enter  blindfold,  but  trouble  will  quickly  open  his 
eyes.  The  wish  to  be  happy  is  natural  and  normal. 
But  the  expectation  of  happiness  unalloyed  is  most 
unreasonable.  Life  is  a  probation  more  or  less 
severe  with  all,  but  severe  in  different  decrees  to  dif 
ferent  men.  . 

Some  seem  only  dipped  into  life,  as  we  plunge 
children  into  a  bath.  They  come  for  a  moment 
within  the  horizon  and  depart  again. 

Some  appear  to  have  answered  the  earthly  con 
ditions  of  their  existence  in  a  few  years.  There  is 
no  interpreter  to  God's  Providence,  and  God  is  silent. 

Some  persons  appear  to  have  an  end  in  life 
which  requires  an  even  and  balanced  mind  and 
temperament.  They  pass  smoothly  on,  neither  ex 
alted  by  great  joys  nor  depressed  by  burdensome 
sorrows. 

Others  are  sent  into  life  armed  to  resist  the  pres 
sure  of  external  things.  They  have  hope,  courage, 
elasticity,  and  they  meet  and  vanquish  assaults  with 
almost  gladness. 

But  others  still  there  are  to  whom  is  appointed  a 
much  more  difficult  task.  Their  troubles  are  within. 

109 


110  TROUBLES. 

As  a  shipmaster  who  carries  an  insubordinate  and 
mutinous  crew  has  his  enemies  in  his  own  ship,  so 
many  men  have  a  disposition  so  wild,  so  untempered, 
a  mind  so  unbalanced,  that  their  chief  work  of  life 
is  in  their  own  souls. 

Others  still  are  children  of  special  sorrow.  God 
seems  to  deal  with  them  as  Apollo  is  fabled  to  have 
dealt  with  Niobe — slaying  all  their  hopes. 

Many  persons  carry  their  own  troubles;  others 
find  them  in  their  social  dependence  and  connec 
tions.  But  there  are  many  troubles  that  do  not  seem 
to  bear  any  relation  to  our  wisdom  or  to  moral  obli 
quity.  They  are  like  silver  arrows  shot  from  the 
bow  of  God,  and  fixed,  inextractible,  in  the  human 
heart. 

In  such  a  world  it  is  folly  to  expect  exemp 
tion.  They  who  escape  have  reason  to  fear  evil. 
But  some  there  are  who  meet  their  troubles  with 
such  cheer  that  they  hardly  remember  them  as 
trials.  As  the  sun  converts  clouds  to  a  glorious 
drapery,  firing  them  with  gorgeous  hues,  and  draping 
the  whole  horizon  with  its  glorious  costume,  and 
writing  victory  in  fiery  colors  along  the  vanquished 
front  of  every  cloud,  so  sometimes  a  radiant  heart 
lets  forth  its  hope  upon  its  sorrow  and  all  the  black 
ness  flies,  and  troubles  that  trooped  to  appall,  crowd 
around  as  a  triumphal  group  around  the  steps  of  a 
victor. 

Now  these  need  not  fear  that  they  are  not  the  sons 
of  God.  They  seem  but  little  tried  because  they 
have  such  singular  victory.  But  those  who  have  no 
troubles,  and  gain  no  victories,  have  never  striven 


TROUBLES.  Ill 

for  a  higher  place  in  life  than  nature  gave.  A  man 
without  aspiration  is  stale  indeed.  But  aspiration 
brings  endeavor,  and  endeavor  strife,  and  strife  many 
grievous  woundings. 

It  is  unwise,  therefore,  to  rear  our  children  to  avoid 
trouble.  Instinct  will  do  that  sufficiently.  It  should 
be  ours,  rather,  to  teach  them  how  to  vanquish  one 
part,  and  how  to  endure  the  other.  And  enduring  is 
the  greater. 

Secular  troubles,  or  troubles  from  without — trou 
bles  by  men,  troubles  from  affairs,  troubles  of  busi 
ness,  should  always  be  met  with  greater  force  than 
they  bring. 

Many  troubles  can  be  cut  at  the  root  and  cease. 
Many  can  be  strangled.  Many  can  be  overcome 
by  direct  attack.  We  should  count  worldly  trouble 
to  be  only  an  excitant,  and  by  it  be  aroused  to 
an  energy  and  force  which  otherwise  we  could  not 
have  felt.  Such  trials  are  only  occasions  of  victory. 
Meet  and  resist  them  ! 

Some  troubles  and  trials  can  be  thrown  off.  Dis 
eases  are  repelled  by  great  animal  vigor ;  and  trou 
bles  may  be  repelled  by  great  mental  vigor.  Every 
one  perceives  this  in  his  own  experience.  In  the 
morning  we  can  carry  the  world  like  Atlas.  At  noon 
we  stoop  and  find  it  heavy.  At  night  the  world 
crushes  us  down  and  we  are  under  it. 

The  very  troubles  of  to-day  were  about  you  yes 
terday,  and  you  did  not  know  them.  For  you  were 
engaged  in  things  that  fired  the  mind  with  higher 
excitements.  Yery  many  troubles  of  life  are  nothing 
but  your  weakness.  Stand  up  and  they  are  gone 


112  TROUBLES. 

They  are  like  gnats,  which,  while  one  is  still,  settle 
and  bite,  but  rising  up  and  working,  the  whole  swarm 
fly  off  or  do  but  buzz.  But  the  moment  the  man 
rests,  they  alight.  Thus,  activity  is  exemption,  and 
sleep  is  defeat. 

The  want  of  proper  occupation  is  the  cause  of 
more  than  half  of  the  petty  frets  of  life.  And  right 
occupation  will  be  a  medicine  for  half  the  minor  ills 
of  life.  A  man  without  any  proper  aim  in  life,  with 
out  moral  inspiration,  too  rich  to  be  industrious,  and 
a  prey  to  the  thousand  frets  of  unoccupied  leisure, 
sometimes  sets  himself  to  pray  against  his  troubles. 
Now  a  man  might  as  well  pray  against  the  particles 
of  sand  in  Sahara  as  a  lazy  man  pray  against  petty 
troubles. 

Therefore  it  happens,  sometimes,  that  bankruptcy 
brings  to  a  man  what  all  his  wealth  failed  to  give — 
happiness ;  for  he  has  real  troubles,  and  trouble  is  a 
good  medicine  for  trouble.  There  is  a  moral  counter- 
irritation. 

Many  troubles,  unlike  the  above,  that  are  real, 
can  be  medicated  by  Hope.  For  so  is  it,  that  we 
can  bear  much  when  the  prospect  before  us  is  cheer 
ful  and  assured.  If  a  man  lets  his  troubles  come 
between  him  and  the  sun,  they  will  cast  a  shadow 
and  interpose  their  substance  too.  But  if  he  will 
put  himself  between  the  sun  and  his  troubles,  then 
his  own  form  will  fall  upon  the  over-shadowed  evil 
and  half  eclipse  it.  It  is  for  this  that  hope  is  given. 
WQ  are  saved  by  hope,  it  is  said.  Hope  is  an  anchor 
that  holds  on  to  the  bottom  while  the  storms  handle 
the  ship,  and  enables  it  to  outride  the  tempest. 


TROUBLES.  113 

Happy  is  he  that  has  hope.  It  is  a  heart-spring. 
If  a  man  had  no  elasticity  in  his  foot,  and  could 
spring  over  no  pool,  nor  ditch,  nor  roughness,  but 
went  leadenly  through  them  all,  how  burdensome 
would  his  journey  be!  But  by  an  elastic  ankle  he 
springs  over  a  hundred  hindrances,  and  never  knows 
their  annoyance.  Many  of  our  troubles  should  be 
oversprung. 

Many  troubles  in  life  cease  when  we  cease  to  nurse 
them.  "We  take  them  up,  we  dandle  them  upon 
our  knee,  we  carry  them  in  our  bosom.  "When  they 
seem  to  sleep,  we  wake  them  up,  and  insist  upon 
sharpening  their  point.  We  ruminate  our  cud, 
which  was  a  thistle  at  first,  and  make  mean  and  fret 
ful  martyrs  of  ourselves.  If  one  will  be  unhappy, 
if  bitter  is  craved  by  the  palate,  there  is  no  need  for 
remedy. 

Many  real  troubles  there  are  which  will  cease 
the  moment  our  heart  accepts  them  and  submits 
itself  to  them  as  a  part  of  a  Divine  Providence. 
For  many,  many  troubles  are  but  the  strain  which 
we  endure  when  God  would  carry  us  the  right  way, 
and  we  insist  upon  going  the  wrong !  "When  two 
walk  arm  in  arm,  if  one  would  turn  and  the  other 
would  not,  either  they  must  pull  diversely  or  else 
must  separate.  But  God  never  lets  go  his  child 
ren's  arms,  and  if  they  struggle  and  hold  back, 
they  are  dragged.  Let  them  submit  to  be  led,  nor 
struggle,  nor  hold  back.  In  that  instant  the  trouble 
goes. 

This  is  specially  true  of  all  troubles  which  involve 
loss  of  property  and  worldly  comfort,  as  though  they 


114  TROUBLES. 

were  necessary  to  happiness,  when  myriads  live  most 
happily  without  them. 

Many  of  our  troubles  are  instantly  cured  by  hold 
ing  them  up  in  the  light  of  God's  countenance. 
They  arise  from  seeing  things  in  a  false  light, 
or  from  seeing  things  in  the  half-light  of  this  world. 
When  they -are  surveyed  in  the  great  sphere  and  in 
the  light  of  heaven,  they  dissolve  like  snow-flakes. 

This  is  the  reason  of  the  experience  of  many 
Christians.  They  go  imder  a  cloud,  and  finally, 
pressed  and  burdened  they  go  to  prayer,  and  rising 
into  the  presence  of  God,  filled  with  hope  and 
cheer,  when  they  begin  to  think  of  their  petition,  it 
is  gone.  The  air  of  heaven  has  health  in  it.  There 
is  peace  in  the  very  presence  of  God.  They  that 
touch  the  hem  of  his  garment  are  often  as  much 
healed  as  those  whom  he  takes  by  the  hand ! 

The  same  is  true  of  music ;  a  little  hymn,  child- 
warbled,  has  sometimes  done  more  for  a  man  in  one 
moment  than  all  his  own  philosophy,  his  strivings, 
and  his  labor !  For  a  hymn  is  like  the  touch  given 
to  the  servant's  eyes  by  the  prophet.  It  opens  the 
air,  and  it  is  full  of  God's  messengers. 

There  be  troubles  that  may  be  worn  out.  A  pa 
tient  endurance  will  destroy  them.  Like  tides,  they 
cannot  be  checked  nor  resisted  when  rising.  But, 
like  tides,  if  patiently  waited  upon,  they  will  turn 
and  flow  out  of  themselves ! 

Nay,  rather  let  me  say  that  they  are  inundations 
of  freshets.  When  God  means  mercy  to  the  seasons, 
he  sends  clouds  to  the  mountains.  From  their 
bosom  all  the  mountain-springs  nurse,  and  are  full, 


TROUBLES.  115 

But  when  from  the  fullness  of  the  rain  the  streams 
swell,  and  branch  adds  to  branch  its  tribute,  the 
over-swollen  river  spreads  wide  over  all  the  neigh 
boring  meadows.  Trees  wade  deep;  bushes,  half- 
hidden,  seem  cut  in  twain,  and  the  earth  is  lost.  But 
with  a  few  days  the  stream  sucks  back  its  waters 
and  drives  them  out  to  the  sea.  Now  see  the 
drenched  earth  all  asliine.  Mud,  mud,  mud !  But 
go  again  in  two  months  and  see  the  children  of  the 
mud — grass  that  waves  its  little  forest — flowers  that 
carry  heaven  in  their  bosom — corn  and  grain  that 
exult  in  richness  and  vigor.  Troubles  come  to  us 
like  mire  and  filth.  But,  when  mingled  with  the  soil, 
they  change  to  flower  and  fruit. 


PHASES    OF    THE    TIMES. 

THE  art  of  being  happy  is  less  cultivated  in  this 
land  than  in  almost  any  other.  We  make  extravagant 
preparations  for  it ;  we  give  no  bounds  to  our  enter 
prise  ;  we  heap  up  material ;  we  go  through  an  im 
mense  experience  preparatory  to  being  happy.  But, 
in  the  main,  it  is  the  very  thing  which  we  forget  to 
extract  from  an  abundant  preparation.  Content 
ment  is  a  quality  which  few  know  how  to  reconcile 
with  aspiration,  and  still  less  with  enterprise.  Satis 
faction,  therefore,  is  the  bright  ideal  of  the  future. 
It  never  blossoms  to-day.  It  is  always  for  to-morrow. 
Men  never  come  up  with  their  hope.  The  short  and 
intense  excitements  which  we  misname  enjoyment 
are  paroxysms,  not  steady  pulsations.  At  length  it 
comes  to  pass  that  men  do  not  enjoy  life  in  the  midst  of 
heaped-up  prosperity.  And  amid  reverses  they  be 
moan  themselves  when  the  topmost  leaves  of  the 
banyan  tree  are  plucked  by  the  wind,  and  refuse  to 
shelter  themselves  beneath  the  vast  breadth  of  what 
remains. 

The  whole  land  stands  in  surprise  and  complaint 
at  a  sudden  and  violent  revolution.  Our  disasters  are 
in  every  mouth.  The  change  of  circumstances  is  the 
fertile  theme.  A  little  while  ago  and  we  could  see 
nothing  but  brightness,  and  now  nothing  but  dark 
ness.  Then  it  was  noon  all  the  while ;  now  it  is 

116 


PHASES   OF   THE   TIMES.  117 

midnight.  In  neither  case  was  there  balance  and 
just  judgment.  The  light  was  too  bright  then,  and 
the  darkness  is  too  dense  now.  It  becomes  us  to 
estimate — to  sit  down  and  put  one  thing  over  against 
another,  and  to  frame  a  judgment  upon  a  view  of  all 
sides  of  our  case. 

There  are  undoubted  evidences  of  the  advance  of 
the  world  in  true  civilization.  "Within  the  last  ten 
years  the  most  extraordinary  wars  and  civil  revo 
lutions  have  taken  place  on  the  globe.  Once  such  a 
combination  and  movement  as  we  have  but  lately 
beheld,  would  have  affected  the  whole  globe  with 
terror.  Since  the  French  Emperor  put  his  bloody 
foot  upon  the  steps  of  the  throne,  there  have  been  set 
on  foot  the  most  wide-spread  combinations  of  govern 
ments,  the  most  prodigious  armies  and  navies,  such  as 
turn  the  historic  Armada  into  a  mere  affair  of  yachts. 
Once  the  globe  would  have  trembled  to  the  footsteps 
of  such  an  unparalleled  war  !  So  much  did  the  spirit 
of  the  past  dwell  in  military  things,  that,  a  hundred 
or  two  hundred  years  ago,  such  a  history  would  have 
drawn  with  it  the  world's  nerve  and  blood  and  vitality. 
But  now  all  western  Europe  rose  up  and  the  world 
did  not  tremble.  All  Russia  gathered  together  and 
the  Orient  did  not  feel  it.  And  the  pounding  of  war  in 
that  gigantic  conflict  disturbed  the  world  as  little  as  a 
thresher's  flail  upon  the  barn-floor  disturbs  the  earth 
beneath  it.  Not  even  the  nations  that  carried  such 
battle  in  their  hands  thought  it  heavy.  Great 
Britain  took  but  her  left  hand.  Not  a  wheel 
stopped  in  her  manufactories.  Not  an  acre  the  less 
was  tilled  in  France ;  and  the  world  upon  this  side 


118  PHASES    OF   THE   TIMES. 

read  the  account  simply  as  news.  It  produced  no 
more  effect  than  the  last  serial  story  that  drags  its 
long  and  tedious  tail  through  the  cheap  and  stupid 
magazines. 

But  now,  upon  these  western  shores,  over-eager 
capitalists  and  operators  have  pushed  their  trade  too 
far  and  built  their  plans  too  fast.  A  bank  explodes 
in  Ohio  ;  then  a  line  of  banks  gives  way  in  Pennsyl 
vania.  This  shook  the  continent  more  than  all  the 
cannonade  of  Sevastopol.  Next,  the  banks  of  New 
York  suspended.  All  business  stopped.  Society 
was  tremulous  from  top  to  bottom !  The  tidings  are 
borne  across  the  ocean.  That  wonderful  island, 
whose  top  is  narrow,  but  whose  base  is  broad  as  the 
whole  earth,  began  to  quiver,  and  that  silent  panic 
brought  her  down  quicker  than  an  axe  brings  down 
the  ox.  "War  could  not  make  her  plumes  to  quiver ; 
but  Commerce,  by  a  look,  cast  her  upon  the  ground. 
And  it  stands  apparent  to  the  world  by  the  grandest 
demonstration,  that  in  valid  influence  Commerce  has 
supplanted  War,  and  is  its  master.  The  general's 
sword,  the  marshal's  truncheon,  the  king's  crown,  are 
no  longer  the  strongest  things.  The  world's  strength 
lies  in  the  million  hands  of  producers  and  exchangers. 
Power  has  shifted.  "No  matter  who  reigns — the  mer 
chant  reigns.  No  matter  what  the  form  of  government 
is,  the  powder  of  the  world  is  in  the  hands  of  the  people. 
The  king's  hand  is  weaker  than  the  banker's.  "War 
cannot  convulse  the  world,  but  Capital  can. 

This  should  not  be  mentioned  as  if  it  were  an  un 
mixed  good.  It  has  its  own  mischiefs,  for  every 
event  grows  in  a  husk,  which  at  first  preserves  and 


PHASES    OF   THE   TIMES.  119 

then  cumbers  the  grain ;  and  commerce  has  its  dan 
gers  and  tyrannies ;  but  it  marks  the  direction  the 
world  is  pursuing,  and  the  progress  of  the  march. 
The  growth  which  is  everywhere  to  be  witnessed  is 
away  from  dynasties,  from  imperious  governments, 
and  towards  the  great  masses  of  men.  This  is  one 
of  the  signs  of  the  times  which  wise  men  are  able  to 
discern  in  the  present  crisis.  It  is  true,  a  man  that 
was  rich  yesterday,  but  is  bankrupt  to-day,  may  not 
find  consolation  in  being  told  that  his  facile  destruc 
tion  was  one  of  the  straws  which  show  which  way  the 
wind  blows;  but,  notwithstanding,  it  does  show  it; 
and  though  we  are  sorry  for  the  immediate  sufferers, 
we  do  not  think  it  needful  to  refuse  some  alleviation. 

The  conditions  of  growth  in  our  age  and  nation 
are  unlike  those  of  past  times,  and  are  not  to  be 
measured  by  them.  Germany,  France,  Great 
Britain,  began  in  a  barbarous  state,  and  through 
centuries  developed  their  civilization.  Their  growth 
was  slow  ;  their  wants  did  not  require  any  ingenuity 
or  skill  for  supply.  Slowness  gives  nations  a  chance 
to  be  steady.  Our  nation  had  no  interior  infancy. 
Our  fathers  were  ripe  men,  for  their  age.  Society  in 
America  has  begun,  at  the  beginning,  with  all  the  wants 
which,  abroad,  came  gradually  through  centuries. 

The  inevitable  result  of  such  condition  was  two 
fold  :  Now  to  give  an  extraordinary  impulse  to  our 
people  in  industrial  directions ;  and  to  oblige  them 
to  devise  every  possible  means  of  operating.  With 
no  accumulated  capital,  with  no  past  behind  us,  that 
had  builded  towns,  roads,  and  structures  for  us — 
we  yet  had  the  same  tastes,  the  same  intellectual 


120  PHASES    OF    THE   TIMES. 

wants,  the  same  scale  of  social  life,  the  same  or 
higher  domestic  needs  that  older  nations  had.  It 
was  impossible  that  men  who  were  under  such 
conditions — a  quick,  enterprising,  industrious,  ambi 
tious  people — should  not  be  powerfully  influenced, 
and  that  in  the  earlier  stages  of  national  life  the 
propelling  power  should  not  be  in  excess,  and  the 
consolidating  and  steadying  power  relatively  de 
ficient.  Never  was  there  a  people  truer  to  their  cir 
cumstances.  Had  they  tried  to  live  in  the  past  they 
would  have  been  like  a  plant  trying  to  grow  away 
from  the  light.  God  put  their  life  in  their  future. 
They  pressed  towards  it.  Even  the  present  was  but 
one  broad  step,  by  which  to  go  further  towards  the 
future.  And  all  the  developments  among  us  have 
been  those  which  were  necessary — in  the  imperfect 
way  in  which  the  world  always  grows — to  this 
answering  of  our  people  to  their  true  nature ! 

The  central  faculty  which  warms,  incites,  and 
intensely  influences  the  American  mind,  is  hope. 
And  while  we  are  served  and  blessed  by  this 
power  we  must  take  it,  with  all  its  limitations  and 
evils.  Hope  tempered  a  little,  and  judiciously 
combined,  works  out  full  and  fruitful  enterprises, 
and  gives  light  and  pleasure  to  industry.  But  this 
feeling  is  subject  to  various  conditions  and  diseases. 
Gambling,  in  the  worst  sense,  is  nothing  but  the 
last  and  worst  development  of  diseased  hope.  The 
distance  and  difference  between  the  mild  beginning 
and  the  terrific  end  of  this  action  is  immense.  The 
risks  and  ventures  of  the  stock  market  is  another 
source.  The  element  of  speculation  is  derived 


PHASES    OF   THE   TIMES. 


from  the  same  feeling.  Hence  nationally,  and  as 
a  fact  of  our  race,  Hope  is  large.  Past  and  pres 
ent  circumstances  Lave  powerfully  developed  and 
inspired  it.  It  has  given  to  us  in  our  circumstances, 
a  character  of  adventurousness  not  only,  but  a  great 
part  of  our  material  prosperity  has  arisen  from  this 
very  thing. 

To  construct  thirty  or  forty  thousand  miles  of  rail 
road  in  twenty-five  years  could  never  have  been 
done  by  merely  prudent  men.  There  seems  an 
overruling  element  in  affairs  that  provides  ten 
dencies  to  fit  the  exigency.  If  our  border  men  were 
not  rude,  coarse,  hard  —  nature  and  circumstances 
would  be  too  much  for  them.  Even  when  cut  off 
they  are  less  a  loss.  Living  or  dying  they  seem 
fitted  to  their  place  and  work.  And  so  in  early 
periods  of  commercial  development  there  is  need  of 
pioneers.  Men  who  have  nothing  to  lose  and  every 
thing  to  gain  in  venturesome  enterprises,  must  take 
the  lead.  We  are  fortunate  in  having  such.  We 
owe  to  them  an  immense  obligation.  It  is  the 
ruined  men  of  the  community  who  make  the  pros 
perous  men.  They  went  before.  They  ventured  as 
no  others  would  have  done.  They  foresaw,  or  thought 
they  did.  They  had  that  mind  element  which  made 
it  as  easy  for  them  to  do  this,  as  it  would  have  been 
hard  for  others. 

Even  in  the  mutations  and  upsettings  of  this  class 
of  men  there  is  to  be  observed  a  wisdom  of  affairs. 
It  does  not  hurt  a  sanguine  man,  full  of  spring  and 
hope,  to  be  destroyed.  Some  men  are  like  some  of 
the  earlier  forms  of  worms  ;  cutting  them  in  pieces 

6 


122  PHASES   OF  THE   TIMES. 

only  multiplies  them.  Every  fragment  gathers  up  a 
head,  and  finishes  out  a  new  tail,  and  moves  along. 
You  may  turn  a  life-boat  over  and  it  will  right 
again;  but  it  would  not  do  to  upset  a  frigate  or 
line-of-battle-ship.-  Many  men  in  New  York  get  so 
used  to  failures  that  they  expect  them  as  much  as 
ten-pins  expect  to  be  tripped  up  ;  it  is  part  of  the 
game.  If  they  do  not  expect  it,  their  neighbors 
do. 

When  a  community  is  moving  under  such  influence 
and  pressure,  there  is  neither  legislation,  nor  expe 
rience,  nor  any  other  regulating  power,  that  can  pre 
vent  gradual  and  increasing  tendency  to  excess.  Some 
men  will  live  too  fast.  Some  will  venture  too  far. 
Gradually,  competitions  and  strivings  in  a  large  and 
free  acting  community  will  engender  heat.  Heat  will 
carry  people  further  than  they  have  calculated ;  it  will 
tend  to  develop  that  most  powerful  element — credit, 
which  carries  in  its  right  hand  blessings,  and  in  its  left 
curses,  but  ten  blessings  to  one  curse.  In  varying 
periods,  ten,  fifteen,  and  twenty  years,  according  to 
circumstances,  men  will  have  ventured  so  far  along, 
that  a  reckoning  day  will  come.  And  such  crises  are 
but  that  relief  which  the  great  system  needs.  It  is 
but  a  fever,  arising  from  the  reaction  of  nature — the 
throwing  off  of  morbid  matter. 

In  this  process,  sufferings  of  pride,  honor,  and 
even  personal  and  bodily,  tend  to  keep  men's  faces 
too  close  to  their  affairs  to  let  them  see  the  benefit 
of  the  whole  operation.  One  would  think  by  the 
exclamations  of  ruin,  disaster,  dismay,  that  crises 
are  deadly !  Almost  the  whole  evil  rests  upon  indi- 


PHASES   OF   THE   TIMES.  123 

viduals,  without  inflicting  any  considerable  damage 
upon  society.  And  even  that  which  falls  upon  indi 
viduals  is  temporary,  and  compensated  by  collateral 
benefits,  which,  upon  the  whole,  in  a  large  way  of 
judging,  are  beneficial. 

It  should  be  borne  in  mind,  and  thought  of  with 
thankfulness,  that  although  a  heavy  pecuniary  pres 
sure  has  been  resting  on  the  community,  the  great 
incalculable  mercy  of  health,  the  land  throughout, 
was  never  more  eminent  than  now ;  that  abundance 
for  man's  sustenance  was  never  greater,  and  for  the 
general  national  want  never  so  available ;  that  it  is 
only  particular  points  that  suifer ;  that  the  average 
virtue,  intelligence,  and  progress  of  the  masses  is 
onward,  and  not  backward  ;  that  we  are  not  tangled 
or  wasted  by  foreign  wars  ;  that  our  great  national 
struggles  are  pointing  towards  victory ;  that  free 
labor  was  never  so  strong  as  now ;  and  that  discussion 
never  was  so  free,  so  thorough,  and  so  satisfactory. 

It  should  be  borne  in  mind,  also,  that  with  this 
crisis  nothing  perishes.  No  ships  will  rot,  as  under 
embargo ;  stores  will  not  fall  down  ;  not  a  wheel  will 
rust,  but  only  rest ;  the  railroads  whose  creation  has 
cost  us  so  much,  are  created,  and  will  not  go  back, 
but  thunder  on.  Not  an  acre  will  go  again  to  forest ; 
not  a  seed  will  rot.  We  shall  hold  all  the  substantial 
elements  gained,  losing  no  art,  no  science,  no  ideas, 
no  habits,  no  skill,  no  industry,  nothing  but  a  little 
temporary  comfort;  and  for  that  we  shall  receive 
back  steadiness,  safety,  reality,  and  consolidation, 
worth  a  thousand  fold. 


THE    FULLNESS    OF    GOD. 

MANY  passages  of  the  Scripture  are  like  hundreds 
of  wayside  flowers,  which  for  months  and  years 
are  unnoticed  by  us,  simply  because  we  have  been 
accustomed  from  our  childhood  to  see  them  without 
stooping  to  pluck  or  to  examine  them.  Many  of 
the  homeliest  flowers  would  appear  transcendently 
beautiful  if  we  would  take  the  trouble  to  study 
them  minutely,  to  magnify  their  parts,  and  to 
bring  out  their  constituent  elements.  And  so,  we 
were  taught  to  read  the  Bible  so  early,  in  the 
family  and  in  the  village  school,  and  we  have  so 
often  and  often  walked  along  the  chapters,  that  we 
have  beaten  a  dusty  path  in  them,  and  some  of 
their  most  precious  and  beautiful  things  are  neither 
precious  nor  beautiful  to  us,  simply  because  we  look 
at  them  and  not  into  them.  Many  parts  of  the  Bible 
may  be  compared  to  those  exquisite  creations  of  art 
which  are  sometimes  found  in  old  cathedrals ;  they 
have  collected  dust  and  grime  and  weather-stains, 
that  hundreds  of  persons  go  past  them  everyday, 
never  cleansing  them,  never  restoring  feature  nor 
color,  nor  bringing  out  the  artist's  embodied  thought, 
so  that  they  are  quite  unconscious,  till  they  see  them 
restored  in  the  picture  of  some  book,  or  till  some 
enthusiastic  Kuskin  brings  them  out,  and  teaches  us 


124 


THE  FULLNESS   OF   GOD.  125 

how  beautiful  are  the  things  that  we  have  slighted  as 
uncomely.  So  the  Scriptures  are  often  overlaid,  and, 
frequently,  some  of  the  passages  that  really  are  the 
most  resplendent  are  those  which  seem  only  common 
and  ordinary. 

'  Just  such  a  passage  is  to  be  found  in  the  third 
chapter  of  the  Ephesians,  in  which  Paul  says  :  "  For 
this  cause  I  bow  my  knees  unto  the  Father  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  of  whom  the  whole  family  in  hea 
ven  and  earth  is  named,  that  he  would  grant  you,  ac 
cording  to  the  riches  of  his  glory,  to  be  strengthened 
with  might  by  His  Spirit  in  the  inner  man ;  that 
Christ  may  dwell  in  your  hearts  by  faith ;  that  ye, 
being  rooted  and  grounded  in  love,  may  be  able  to 
comprehend  with  all  saints  what  is  the  breadth,  and 
length,  and  depth,  and  height ;  and  to  know  the  love 
of  Christ,  which  passeth  knowledge,  that  ye  might 
be  filled  with  aU  the  fullness  of  God."  What  a  pas 
sage  is  this !  But  this  is  not  all.  This  is  a  prayer ; 
and  the  apostle  having  made  a  prayer  which  few 
men  can  climb,  takes  a  still  higher  flight,  and  says : 
"  Now  unto  Him  that  is  able  to  do  exceeding  abun 
dantly  above  all  that  we  ask  or  think,  according  to 
the  power  that  worketh  in  us,  unto  Him  be  glory  in 
the  church  by  Christ  Jesus  throughout  all  ages, 
world  without  end.  Amen." 

These  words  are,  throughout,  a  sublime  strain 
against  despondency.  Paul  was  in  prison.  "For 
this  cause,"  the  chapter  begins,  "  I,  Paul  the  pri 
soner."  His  design  was  to  present  such  a  view  of 
the  fullness  of  God's  heart,  and  of  the  grandeur  of  his 
administration,  as  should  be  an  offset  against  any 


126  THE   FULLNESS   OF   GOD. 

possible  weakness,  disaster,  overthrow,  or  trouble  in 
life,  to  Christians  both  as  individuals  and  as  churches. 

It  is  a  presentation  of  God  in  such  a  light  as  shall 
enkindle  praise.  "Now  unto  Him  " — the  very  words 
indicate  the  mood  of  devout  ascription.  He  would 
excite  joy  and  adoration  in  view  of  God's  royal  gene 
rosity  and  large-heartedness.  The  Divine  generosity 
is  measured  not  only  by  our  wants,  but  by  our 
thoughts  and  desires  above  our  wants,  and  it  equals 
and  transcends  both.  He  is  "  able  to  do  exceeding 
abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask  or  think." 

The  word  "  abundance  "  expresses  the  idea  of  more 
than  enough.  "  Enough  "  is  a  measuring  word.  It 
is  the  complete  filling  of  a  given  measure.  It  satisfies 
the  demand.  It  just  equals  the  want.  But  "  abund 
ance  "  is  something  over  and  above.  It  is  "  enough 
and  to  spare."  A  handful  of  berries  or  dried  fruits 
given  to  a  pilgrim  who  is  ready  to  perish  of  hunger, 
might  be  enough  to  stay  his  strength  and  satisfy  his 
appetite ;  but  if  instead  of  this,  the  kind  heart  of 
sympathy  should  throw  open  the  garden-gate  and  the 
orchard,  and  say  to  him,  "  Go  in,  pluck  and  eat," 
even  when  the  lively  appetite  had  sated  itself  upon 
the  nearest  fruits,  there  would  still  be  on  every  bush 
and  bough,  in  hundreds  of  rows  and  ranks,  through 
out  the  garden  and  the  orchard,  multitudes  of  kinds 
and  the  utmost  abundance  in  quantity,  of  sweet  and 
delicious  fruits,  which  he  could  not  begin  to  eat  nor 
even  to  taste.  In  the  one  case  he  would  have 
simply  "  enough,"  in  the  other  "  abundance." 

Saith  the  armorer,  "  I  will  not  be  wasteful,"  and 
he  uses  steel  with  an  economic  eye  in  forging  the 


THE   FULLNESS    OF   GOD.  127 

blade,  and  the  smith  measures  his  iron  for  each  pur 
pose.  So  he  that  pays  a  debt  at  the  bank  lays  down 
the  exact  amount  to  a  penny,  but  no  more.  The 
apothecary  takes  the  physician's  prescription,  and 
weighing  it  out  allows  himself  no  generosity  in 
measuring  the  ingredients  of  the  medicine,  but  puts 
it  up  by  drachms  and  scruples  with  rigid  exacti 
tude.  So  God  does  not  measure  in  creating,  or  in 
sustaining,  or  in  administering.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  thought  of  God  which  the  apostle  conveys  is  that 
of  a  being  of  magnificent  richness,  who  does  every 
thing  in  overmeasure.  The  whole  divine  character 
and  administration,  the  whole  conception  of  God  set 
forth  in  the  Bible  and  in  nature,  is  of  a  being  of 
magnificence  and  munificence,  of  abundance  and 
superabundance.  Did  you  ever  take  the  trouble  to 
look  at  a  lazy  bank  that  bears  nothing  for  itself?  It 
has  no  trees  growing  out  of  it  for  grateful  shade, 
and  no  vines  with  cooling  clusters,  and  no  grass 
which  herds  may  browse  upon,  and  no  flowers  that 
lap  over  it,  and  yet  the  hair  of  ten  thousand  reeds 
will  be  combed  upon  its  brow,  and  it  will  be  spotted 
and  patched  with  moss,  of  ten  thousand  patterns  of 
exquisite  beauty,  so  that  any  artist  who,  in  all  his 
life,  should  produce  one  such  thing,  would  make 
himself  a  master-spirit  in  art,  and  immortal  in  fame. 
God's  least  thought  in  the  barrenest  places  of  nature 
is  more  prolific  than  man's  greatest  abundance.  God 
is  a  being  of  great  thoughts,  great  feelings,  great 
actions.  "Whenever  he  does  anything,  he  never  does 
it  narrowly,  certainly  not  meanly.  He  never  cuts 
out  such  a  pattern,  and  then  works  up  to  it  with  even 


128  THE   FULLNESS   OF   GOD. 

edge.  He  is  a  royal  Creator,  who  says  to  the 
earth,  "  Let  it  swarm  abundantly,"  and  to  the  sea, 
"  Let  it  be  endlessly  filled."  He  touches  the  sand 
of  the  shore,  and  it  stands  forth  as  a  representative 
of  the  abundance  of  his  thought.  He  spreads  out  the 
heavens,  and  no  man  can  count  the  fiery  stars.  He 
orders  the  seasons,  and  they  all  speak  in  their  end 
less  procession  of  this  one  thought  of  God — His  ever 
lasting  abundance ! 

But  "abundance"  is  a  relative  word.  What  is 
abundance  for  a  wayfarer  is  not  abundance  for  a 
shepherd.  "What  was  abundant  for  a  nomad,  a  wan 
dering  shepherd,  would  not  be  for  a  settled  farmer, 
with  crops  and  stock,  with  barns  and  houses.  But 
what  is  abundant  for  a  farmer,  would  not  be  for 
a  merchant ;  and  what  is  abundant  for  a  merchant 
would  be  very  sparse  and  scant  for  a  prince;  and 
even  among  princes  there  is  great  difference  of 
degree.  The  abundance  of  a  petty  German  prince 
would  be  poverty  for  the  court  of  the  royal  Czar. 
Now  put  the  word,  with  its  relative  and  increased 
significance,  upon  God.  Divine  abundance!  The 
fullness  of  God!  It  is  not  in  the  power  of  man 
to  conceive  it!  If  God  might  be  supposed  to 
have  worked  narrowly  anywhere  it  would  be  on 
the  earth,  his  footstool.  But  the  earth  is  infinitely 
full  of  God's  thought.  And  yet,  great  as  the  earth 
is,  absolutely  it  is  relatively  little,  and  all  symbols 
and  figures  drawn  from  earthly  things  stop  this  side 
of  the  divine  idea  of  abundance. 

But  the  apostle  says,  "  Now  unto  him  that  is  able 
to  do  exceeding  abundantly."  What  a  vision  he 


THE    FULLNESS    OF    GOD.  129 

must  have  had !  How  grandly  in  that  moment  did 
the  divine  thought  rise  before  his  enrapt  mind, 
when  he  so  linked  words  together,  seeking  by  com 
binations  to  express  what  no  one  word  had  the 
power  to  flash  forth.  He  could  not  by  the  mightiest 
single  word  express  his  own  thought  and  feeling, 
and  so  he  joined  golden  word  with  golden  word,  as  if 
he  fain  would  encompass  it  with  a  chain  ! 

But  Paul  employs  a  measure  of  comparison 
even  over  and  above  all  this,  "above  all  that 
we  can  ask  or  think."  That  is,  above  the  measure 
of  all  human  aspirations.  How  much  can  a  man 
ask  or  think?  When  the  deepest  convictions 
of  sin  are  upon  him,  in  his  hoitr  of  deep  despond 
ency,  in  critical  and  trying  circumstances,  when  fears 
come  upon  his  soul  as  storms  came  on  the  lake  of 
Galilee,  consider  how  much  a  man  would  then  ask, 
and  how  much  more  think !  Or,  when  love  swells 
every  vein  in  his  soul,  and  makes  life  as  full  as 
mountains  make  the  streams  in  spring-time,  and  hope 
is  the  sun  by  day  and  the  moon  by  night,  in  those 
gloriously  elate  hours  in  which  he  seems  no  longer 
fixed  to  space  and  time,  but.  springing  as  if  the  body 
were  forgotten  by  the  soul,  wings  his  way  through 
the  realms  of  aspiration  and  conception,  consider 
how  much  a  man  then  thinks  ! 

All  books  are  dry  and  tame  compared  with  that 
great  unwritten  book  prayed  in  the  closet.  The 
prayers  of  exiles!  The  prayers  of  martyrs!  The 
prayers  of  missionaries !  The  prayers  of  the  Wal- 
denses !  The  prayers  of  the  Albigenses !  The 
prayers  of  the  Covenanters !  The  sighs,  the  groans, 

6* 


130  THE   FULLNESS    OF   GOD. 

the  inarticulate  cries  of  suffering  men,  whom  tyrants 
have  buried  alive  in  dungeons — whom  the  world  may 
forget,  but  God  never  !  If  some  angel,  catching  them 
as  they  were  uttered,  should  drop  them  down  from 
heaven,  what  a  liturgy  they  would  make!  Can 
any  epic  equal  those  unwritten  words  that  pour  into 
the  ear  of  God  out  of  the  heart's  fullness ! 

Still  more,  what  epic  can  equal  the  unspoken 
words,  that  never  find  the  lip,  but  go  up  to  heaven 
in  unutterable  longings  and  aspirations !  Words  are 
but  the  bannerets  of  a  great  army ;  thoughts  are  the 
main  body  of  the  footmen.  Words  show  here  and 
there  a  little  gleam  in  the  air,  but  the  great  multi 
tude  of  thoughts  march  unseen  below.  Words  can 
not  follow  aspiration  even  in  its  tamer  flights ;  still 
less  when  it  takes  wings  and  flies  upward,  borne  by 
the  breath  of  God's  holy  spirit.  I  see  the  gulls  from 
my  window  day  by  day,  making  circuits  against  the 
north  wind.  They  mount  up  above  the  masts  of  ves 
sels  in  the  stream,  and  then  suddenly  drop  almost  to 
the  water's  edge,  flying  first  in  one  direction  and  then 
in  another,  that  they  may  find  some  eddy  unobstructed 
by  that  steady  blowing  blast,  until  they  turn  finally 
with  the  wind,  and  then  like  a  gleam  of  light  their 
white  wings  flash  down  the  bay  faster  than  any  eye 
can  follow  them !  So  when  men's  aspirations  are 
borne  by  some  divine  wind  towards  heaven,  they 
take  swift  upward  flight,  and  no  words  can  follow 
them ! 

Consider  what  a  soul  thinks  in  yearnings  for 
itself,  and  in  yearnings  even  more  for  others ;  what 
a  saint  thinks  in  hours  of  vision  and  aspiration,  when 


THE   FULLNESS    OF   GOD.  131 

he  reflects  how  all  his  life  long,  through  good  report 
and  through  evil  report,  through  manifold  trials  of 
temper,  of  mind,  of  feeling  in  his  family  and  out, 
the  hand  of  God  has  led  him  every  day,  and  his  cup 
has  been  filled  to  overflowing  ;  consider  what  a  dying 
man  thinks  in  view  of  death  and  of  judgment  and 
immortality  awaiting  him  beyond  the  grave  !  What 
wonderful  thoughts !  "What  wonderful  feelings ! 
And  yet  the  apostle's  measurement  is  more  than  all 
these,  for  he  says :  "  Now  unto  him  that  is  able  to  do 
exceeding  abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask  or 
think!"  How  true  it  is  that  God's  riches  are  un 
searchable  ! 

This  is  the  idea  of  God  toward  which  men  ought 
always  to  repent.  It  is  sometimes  supposed  that 
repentance  is  drudgery.  It  is  drudgery  in  a  mean 
man,  but  in  no  one  else.  There  is  a  kind  of  mean 
repentance  that  needs  to  be  repented  of.  But  when 
a  child  knows  that  his  misconduct  has  really  hurt  a 
loving  parent,  the  child  is  more  pained  than  the  pa 
rent.  When  a  noble  spirit  has  done  wrong  to  a 
friend,  through  some  misunderstanding  that  has 
sprung  up  between  them,  such  a  man  demands  the 
liberty  of  restoring  himself  more  than  the  other  de 
mands  that  he  shall  restore  himself.  When  we  have 
injured  a  friend,  it  is  our  privilege  to  make  it  good. 
It  is  necessary  to  our  thought  of  manhood  that  we 
should  repair  a  wrong  done.  How  much  more  when 
we  have  wronged  Christ,  our  elder  brother,  our 
redeemer,  our  friend,  our  joy,  and  our  comfort, 
should  we  make  haste  to  repent — not  as  a  duty,  but 
as  a  sweet  privilege  ;  not  with  the  thought  that  our 


132  THE   FULLNESS    OF   GOD. 

repentance  is  a  necessity  made  so  by  him,  but  made 
necessary  by  our  own  honor  and  conscience.  To 
sit  down  in  a  corner,  and  to  cry  so  much,  and 
to  feel  so  bad,  and  to  mourn  so  long,  is  not  repent 
ance.  True  repentance  springs  out  of  the  most  gene 
rous  feelings  of  a  Christian  heart.  It  is  a  man's 
better  nature  triumphing  over  his  lower  and  meaner. 
A  Christian-  should  never  say,  "  I  must  repent,"  but 
"Let  me  repent."  It  is  the  goodness  of  God  that 
should  lead  us  to  repentance,  not  his  justice  and  his 
terrors.  Many  persons  suppose  that  God  sits  on  the 
throne  of  the  heavens  as  storm-clouds  that  float  in 
summer  skies,  full  of  bolts  and  lightnings ;  and  they 
are  either  repelled,  or  they  think  they  must  come  to 
him  under  the  covert  of  some  excuse.  But  repent 
ance  ought  to  lead  us  to  God  as  toward  light,  to 
ward  summer,  toward  heaven  made  glorious  with 
his  presence,  toward  his  everlasting  goodness.  His 
eye  is  not  dark  with  vengeance,  nor  his  heart  turbu 
lent  with  wrath,  and  to  repent  toward  his  justice  and 
vindictiveness  must  be  always  from  a  lower  motive 
than  toward  his  generosity  and  his  love. 

It  is  with  such  a  conception  of  God  that  Christians 
should  come  before  him  with  their  wants.  It  is  a 
glorious  comfort  that  God's  love  is  as  infinite  as  his 
power.  We  are  all  apt  to  think  of  his  power  as  in 
finite,  and  we  call  him  omnipotent ;  but  we  too  often 
forget  that  his  love  also  is  infinite.  It  has  no  end, 
no  measure,  uo  bound.  A  man's  generous  feelings 
are  often  like  the  buds  at  this  season  of  the  year — 
wrapped  up  in  coverings  to  keep  them  from  the 
selfishness  and  coldness  of  the  world.  .  By  and  by 


THE   FULLNESS    OF   GOD.  133 

they  may  burst  out  and  bloom,  yet  now  they  are  cir 
cumscribed.  But  we  do  not  have  in  ourselves  the 
measure  of  the  love  of  God.  How  base  it  is,  then, 
when  we  have  some  gift  to  ask  of  him,  to  go  with 
shrinking  confidence  and  with  piteous  look,  as  though 
there  were  need  of  importunity.  Is  it  possible,  if 
with  men  "it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  re 
ceive,"  that  it  is  not  infinitely  more  with  God  ?  To 
a  true  Christian  heart,  next  to  the  pain  of  being  un 
able  to  do  for  those  who  are  in  want,  is  the  pleasure 
of  being  approached  by  them,  when  we  have  it  in  our 
power  to  help  them.  Is  it  not  the  same,  and  in  an 
infinitely  higher  degree  with  God?  The  happiest 
being  in  the  universe  is  God,  because  he  has  an  in 
finite  desire  of  benevolence,  and  infinite  means  of 
gratifying  it.  There  is  with  him  no  limitation,  either 
of  heart  or  hand. 

Such  a  view  of  God,  habitually  taken,  will  deliver 
us  from  unworthy  fears,  and  will  inspire  in  us  great 
boldness  of  approach,  and  access  with  confidence, 
unto  the  throne  of  his  grace.  It  will  tend  to  comfort 
Christians  who  are  in  despondency  respecting  their 
rectitude  through  Kfe,  their  victory  in  death,  and 
their  glorification  in  heaven;  for  these  things  are 
thus  made  to  stand,  not  in  a  Christian's  feeble  desire 
for  them,  but  on  God's  infinite  desire  and  abundant 
grace.  "When  stars,  first  created,  start  forth  upon 
their  vast  circuits,  not  knowing  their  way,  if  they 
were  conscious  and  sentient,  they  might  feel  hope 
less  of  maintaining  their  revolutions  and  orbits,  and 
might  despair  in  the  face  of  coming  ages !  But, 
without  hands  or  arms,  the  sun  holds  them !  With- 


134:  THE    FULLNESS    OF    GOD. 

out  cords  or  bands,  the  Solar  King  drives  them 
unharnessed  on  their  mighty  rounds  without  a  single 
mis-step,  and  will  bring  them  in  the  end  to  their 
bound,  without  a  single  wanderer.  But  the  sun 
is  but  a  thing,  itself  driven  and  held  ;  and  shall  not 
He,  who  created  the  heavens,  and  appointed  all  the 
stars  to  their  places,  and  gave  the  sun  his  power, 
be  able  to  hold  you  by  the  attraction  of  his  heart,  the 
strength  of  his  hands,  and  the  omnipotence  of  his 
affectionate  will  ? 

It  is  this  view  of  God  that  the  Apostles  taught. 
We  read  it  on  every  page  of  Paul  and  Peter  and 
James  and  John — everywhere  in  the  ~New  Testa 
ment.  What  was  the  beginning?  "Peace  on 
earth,  good-will  to  men!"  And  what  was  the  last 
word  that  was  heard  ringing  through  the  air  before 
the  message  was  sealed,  and  the  vision  failed  ?  "  The 
spirit  and  the  bride  say,  Come ;  let  him  that  heareth 
say,  Come ;  let  him  that  is  athirst,  Come ;  and 
whosoever  will,  let  him  come  and  take  of  the 
water  of  life  freely."  WHOSOEVER  WILL  !  That 
is  the  alpha  and  the  omega!  That  is  the  begin 
ning  and  the  ending !  That  is  the  offer ;  that  is  the 
promise.  And  what  shall  be  the  response  of  every 
Christian  heart,  if  it  be  not  those  final  and  sublimest 
words  of  the  great  Revelator,  "  Even  so,  Lord  Jesus, 
Come  quickly?" 


CHRIST  IS  YOU,  THE  HOPE  OF  GLORY. 

IN  journeying  through  a  hilly  country  we  are 
often  able  to  see  only  the  objects  close  at.  hand,  the 
windings  of  the  road,  the  ravines,  or  the  forest-covered 
portions  of  the  path,  hiding  the  connection  of  one 
part  with  another.  Now  and  then  we  come  to  an 
open  summit  lifted  up  as  a  watch-tower  over  all  the 
region,  and  the  whole  scene  breaks  upon  the  eye  at 
one  view.  The  separate  steps  which  we  made  are  in 
visible  ;  the  particular  dells  and  hills  are  now  but 
lights  and  shadows  of  a  great  whole  which  fills  the 
eye. 

It  is  thus  that  we  journey  through  life,  occupied 
with  single  hours  and  single  days ;  with  successive 
individual  labors  and  cares ;  we  rise  over  the  sum 
mits  of  individual  successes  or  joys,  and  are  chilled 
in  the  intervals  of  trouble  and  sorrow.  But  now 
and  then,  there  is  some  experience,  whose  nature 
it  is  to  lift  man  up  above  all  his  daily  round, 
and  to  flash  forth  to  his  conception  the  whole 
past  of  his  life,  the  whole  prospect  of  it.  Yes 
terday,  in  his  counting-room  or  shop,  question  of 
life  to  come  and  immortality  seemed  so  unreal  as 
to  suggest  a  painful  doubt  of  their  reality,  and  the 
themes  of  religion,  exhaling  like  dews,  from  all 
tangible  things,  seemed  to  hang  so  high  in  the  air  of 
meditation  as  to  be  but  vanishing  films — the  merest 

135 


136  (JURIST    IN    YOU,    THE   HOPE    OF   GLOKY. 

fleece  of  vapor.  But  to-morrow,  God's  providence 
strikes  down  upon  him,  no  matter  by  what  imple 
ment,  and  he  finds  himself  lifted  up  out  of  the 
drudging  and  insensitive  habits  of  business,  his  pro 
spect  widened,  and  his  soul  made  keenly  cognizant 
of  spiritual  truth.  Then  the  honors  of  life  dissolve 
before  him  ;  his  own  ambitions  seem  dream-like  ;  the 
domineering  cares  that  had  bent  his  back,  and  wrung 
out  his  best  services,  are,  to  his  thinking,  like  the 
summer  dust  which  the  whirling  wheels  roll  up  in 
the  highways.  Then,  the  truths  of  God,  of  the  soul's 
truest  good,  of  the  connection  of  life  and  after-life ; 
of  the  nobleness  of  Justice,  Truth,  Purity,  and  Love  ; 
of  the  reality  of  a  Divine  Providence,  and  the  sense 
of  God's  presence,  as  of  one  who  listens,  and  ob 
serves,  and  influences  the  heart, — sink  down  from  the 
recesses  far  up,  where  they  had  hidden,  and  invisible 
things,  relations,  conceptional  truths  become  more 
real  to  him  than  things  which  have  physical  sub 
stance  and  activity  palpable  to  the  senses. 

That  tidings  of  death,  or  sudden  losses,  or  the  dis 
closure  of  disease  in  oneself,  should  give  such  projec 
tion  to  the  mind,  we  can  well  understand.  But  how 
shall  we  account  for  such  intense  recognitions  of 
spiritual  truth  and  such  wide  prospects  of  things  at 
other  times  hidden,  or  seen  in  detail,  and  discon 
nectedly,  and  so,  unimpressively,  when  there  is  no  ex 
citing  cause — no  shock  that  electrifies  the  nerves, 
and  arouses  the  mind  to  a  state  of  exaltation  ?  Thus 
one  takes  up  some  common  sewer  of  news,  and 
stepping  over  the  avidity  of  the  editorial  columns — 
full  of  only  flying  (Just— he  carelessly  scans  the  jum- 


THE   HOPE   OF   GLORY.  137 

ble  of  advertisements — dogs,  clothes,  medicines, 
estrays,  runaway  apprentices,  losses  and  findings, 
meat  and  drink  ;  and  besides  these,  the  ten  thousand 
signals  of  quackery  in  every  profession,  the  bland 
hints  of  vice  for  decent  vicious  men,  and  all  the 
boastings,  the  promises  and  lures — and  while  he  di 
vinely  sees  this  phantasmagoria  and  is  half  Christ- 
ianly  chiding  himself  for  such  a  bitter  contempt  of 
life,  and  such  a  wish  to  be  well  rid  of  it,  all  at  once, 
unbidden,  without  gradual  transition,  and  with  the 
clearness  of  a  vision,  there  stands  up  before  him  a 
conception  of  the  whole  human  family,  just  as  they 
must  appear  to  God,  a  vast  complexity  of  interlaced 
and  writhing,  struggling  worms !  And  such  an  in 
tense  sense  of  sorrow,  such  a  pity  as  almost  suffocates 
the  soul ! 

Then,  quicker  than  a  flash  over  all  this  abyssmal 
darkness,  in  which  pride,  and  selfishness,  and  lust, 
and  cruelty,  shine  and  make  dismal  outcry,  there 
rises  up  a  sense  of  God's  inexpressible  patience,  and 
a  foreshadowing  to  the  soul  of  some  great  con 
summation  of  which  we  have  as  yet  not  even  a  hint ; 
and  the  heart  rolls  all  its  sadness  and  evils  away,  and 
clears  itself  of  the  horror  of  distresses,  as  the  summer 
vault  cleanses  itself  of  storms,  and  changes  all  dark 
vapors  into  transparent  ether.  Just  then  the  boat 
touches  the  slip,  you  have  crossed  the  ferry;  and 
these  thoughts,  like  birds  that  had  sung  in  the 
boughs  of  a  tree,  arise  out  of  your  mind  with  a  clap 
of  their  wings,  and  are  gone  away.  You,  too,  rush 
to  the  bow  of  the  boat  as  if  there  were  fire  behind 
you,  and  join  the  throng  tha^ rattle  gaily  homeward. 


138      CHRIST  IN  YOU,  THE  HOPE  OF  GLORY. 

A  few  moments'  walk  clears  you  of  the  crowd,  and 
remembering  the  flavor  of  your  meditations,  you  put 
yourself  into  mood  for  them  once  more.  Now  you 
try  to  fly  up  again.  Not  a  whit  of  it !  You  stretch  out 
your  thought  to  take  the  compass  of  life — in  vain ! 
You  reach  up  to  find  those  calm  regions  of  repose 
where  the  soul  rests  itself  as  in  the  garden  of  God — 
they  are  all  hidden.  You  implore  the  majesty  of 
Divine  Presence  to  overshadow  you  again,  but  there 
is  no  voice  to  your  spirit,  and  none  that  answereth. 
Why  should  such  a  vision  have  had  its  birth  from  the 
contents  of  a  newspaper  ?  Why,  when  intermitted, 
cannot  the  will  evoke  them  again?  Do  they  come 
without  willing,  and  refuse  to  come  at  the  will's 
bidding  ? 

Can  any  one  tell  why  one  sometimes  awakens  in 
the  morning,  and  finds  his  mind  harnessed  from  the 
first  moment,  and  ready  to  dart  off  in  some  special 
direction  ?  Why,  sometimes,  is  there  such  a  sense  of 
the  wickedness  of  oppression  and  injustice,  such  a 
conception  of  the  facts  of  life— the  strong  consuming 
the  weak,  the  skillful,  the  wise,  the  refined,  only 
armed  by  their  excellence  with  the  means  of  injury 
to  their  fellows ;  coupled  with  such  a  grief  and  indig 
nation  as  shakes  the  very  soul,  and  makes  it  re 
sound,  as  old  castles  howl  to  the  roar  of  intrusive 
tempests  ? 

At  another  time  it  is  a  distress  of  love.  Were  all 
that  is  in  heaven  or  upon  earth  ours,  it  would  not  be 
enough  to  express  the  soul's  desire  of  blessing  all  that 
can  feel  a  blessing.  We  would  ask  no  other  joy  than 
to  put  a  brighter  light  in  every  eye,  a  sweeter 


OHKIST   IN  YOU,   THE   HOPE   OF   GLOKY.  139 

hope  and  truer  joy  in  every  heart.  That  should  be 
our  everlasting  reward  at  the  hands  of  God,  to  dis 
tribute  his  mercies  to  others.  Suddenly,  out  of  this 
sense  of  the  beauty,  and  nobleness,  and  joy  of  bless 
ing  others,  there  arises  the  stateliest  thought  of  God, 
and  a  conception  of  His  bliss,  with  such  a  heart  of 
love,  and  such  a  hand  of  power,  and  with  such  a 
field,  and  all  marching  in  glorious  procession  on — on 
— and  forever — that  the  soul  has  a  certain  faintness, 
from  very  joy. 

If  these  states  arose  from  the  presence  of  objects 
or  events  which  naturally  led  to  such  reflections,  or 
if  they  arose  from  any  principle  of  reaction,  or  as  the 
contrast  and  antithesis  of  any  reverse  actions,  we 
should  ascribe  them  to  such  influences.  But  often 
they  defy  both  explanations.  They  come  in  season 
and  out  of  season ;  in  high  health,  and  in  depression 
of  vital  power;  in  solitude,  and  in  the  roar  of  the 
city ;  in  moods  that  are  sad,  and  in  moods  that  are 
merry  and  mirthful.  They  are  capricious  as  regards 
one's  own  will. 

Is  it  only  a  normal  activity  of  the  soul,  in  a  higher 
range,  for  whose  solution  we  simply  lack  familiar 
knowledge  of  ourselves  ?  Is  it  the  potent  suggestions 
of  ministering  spirits?  Is  it  not  rather  God's  own 
Spirit  inflaming  ours,  and  unsealing  the  soul  to 
influences  quite  impossible  to  it,  by  any  suggestions 
or  volitions  of  its  own  ?  It  surely  seems  to  us  that 
the  promises  of  Christ,  that  He  will  dwell  within  us, 
that  He  will  give  us  a  Comforter,  an  Enlightener, 
might  reasonably  be  expected  to  produce  other  and 
higher  fruits  than  those  which  spring  from  the  force 


140  CHRIST   IN   YOU,   THE   HOPE   OF  GLORY. 

of  our  own  volition.  And  if  such  thoughts  and  such 
emotions,  setting  always  toward  God,  toward  Justice, 
toward  Love,  full  of  Hope,  and  Trust,  and  Heaven, 
are  the  things  of  God's  Spirit,  unsphering  us  from 
sensuous  life,  and  giving  us  a  prescience  of  life  to 
come,  then  there  is  a  glorious  meaning  in  the  pro 
mises  of  Christ.  Thus  we  understand  how  He  mani 
fests  himself  to  his  disciples  as  he  doth  not  to  the 
world. 


PRAYER-MEETINGS. 

AN  unknown  friend  in  New  Jersey  has  written  us 
a  sincere  request  for  a  form  of  prayer  suitable  for  a 
prayer-meeting.  "We  should  be  glad  to  oblige  him, 
if  we  thought  such  a  form  would  be  of  any  use.  But 
a  form  is  not  what  he  needs.  A  form  may  do  for  a 
congregation,  where  it  is  understood  that  prayer  is  to 
comprehend  only  the  wants  that  are  general  and  com 
mon  to  all.  But  it  seems  to  us  that  forms  would 
destroy  the  very  conception  of  a  social  meeting  for 
prayer. 

What  is  a  prayer -meeting?  It  is  a  place  for  social 
religious  life.  It  is  not  for  preaching.  It  is  not  for 
exhortation.  It  is  the  place  where  Christian  men 
excite  each  other,  and  instruct  and  strengthen  each 
other,  by  the  free  and  familiar  development  of  their 
religious  emotions.  Every  Christian  brings  a  brand, 
each  places  it  upon  the  altar,  and  the  fire  is  the  joint 
flame  of  many  hearts.  What  would  be  thought  of 
an  application  for  a  form  of  conversation  for  a  Christ 
mas-night's  party?  A  form  of  bargain  for  doing 
general  business  on  'Change  ?  For  a  form  of  impas 
sioned  utterance,  for  the  use  of  loving  hearts?  A 
form  of  family  greeting,  to  be  used  in  vacations  when 
the  children  come  home  ?  But  forms  would  be  every 
whit  as  sensible  in  such  circumstances  as  in  a  social 
gathering  of  Christians  for  religious  conference. 

The  very  secret  of  conducting  prayer-meetings,  is 


141 


142  PKAYER-MEETINGS. 

to  force  people  out  of  their  conventional  ways ;  to 
break  up  their  hereditary  forms  of  unwritten  prayer ; 
to  inspire  a  genial  and  devout  familiarity  ;  to  keep  off 
those  impertinent  moths  called  exhorters,  that  fly 
about  the  flame  of  rising  feeling  ;  to  charm  men  into 
a  forgetfulness,  if  possible,  that  it  is  a  meeting,  and 
make  them  talk  artlessly  and  sensibly. 

The  very  first  step  towards  a  wholesome  meeting  is 
truth.  Truth  is  that  which  prayer-meetings,  in  num 
berless  instances,  lack.  Christians  go  to  them,  as 
suming  the  sense  of  awful  responsibility,  or  else  try 
ing  to  appear  solemn ;  or  else  trying  to  manifest  a 
devout  spirit.  But  in  truth,  a  man  should  go  to  a 
meeting  feeling  just  as  he  does  feel ;  and  not  pretend 
ing  to  anything  else,  simply  because  he  thinks  he 
ought  to  feel  something  else.  This  pretentious  mood, 
this  artificial  and  clumsily  hutched  up  feeling,  over 
lays  the  mind  as  straw  and  dead  leaves  do  the  soil, 
that  nothing  can  shoot  up. 

What  if  men  should  go  to  parties  carrying,  not 
each  one  his  own  nature  and  disposition,  but, 
one  striving  to  be  brilliant,  another  to  be  witty, 
another  to  be  instructive;  who  could  endure  the 
sham?  "We  need  to  have  men  willing  to  stand 
simply  and  only  on  what  they  are  and  what  they 
have.  The  speaking  in  prayer-meetings  should 
be  conversational,  and  so,  natural.  Usually,  when 
a  man  has  nothing  to  say,  he  gets  up  and  exhorts 
sinners  to  repent.  Another  empty  soul  informs 
the  church  that  they  are  very  cold,  and  live  far  be 
neath  their  privileges.  When  such  men  pray,  they 
usually  begin  at  Adam  and  go  on  to  Revelations : 


PBAYEK-MEETINGS.  143 

and  then,  sometimes,  unable  to  stop,  go  back  and 
strike  in  about  midway,  and  back  out  both  ways, 
through  all  manner  of  religious  platitudes. 

How  many  prayer-meetings  begin  a  long  half  hour 
after  the  time  appointed  ?  First  comes  a  hymn,  then 
a  chapter  in  the  Bible,  then  the  deacon  prays,  then  a 
hymn ;  and  so  on,  a  hymn  and  a  deacon,  until  the 
list  of  officers  is  exhausted.  The  pastor  laments  that 
there  are  few  men,  besides  those  whose  ordination 
obliges  them  to  pray,  that  take  part  in  meetings. 
But  why  are  there  no  more  ?  What  has  been  done 
to  increase  the  number  of  praying  members?  Have 
they  been  encouraged  to  do  what  they  could  do  ? 
Or  is  the  spirit  of  the  church  such,  that  no  man  prays 
to  edification,  who  does  not  pray  smoothly  and  or 
nately,  or  with  a  round,  sonorous,  guttural  solemnity. 

Humble  prayers,  timid  prayers,  half-inaudible 
prayers,  the  utterances  of  uncultured  lips,  may  cut  a 
poor  figure,  as  lecture-room  literature.  But  are  they 
to  be  scornfully  disdained  ?  If  a  child  may  not  talk 
at  all  till  it  can  speak  fluent  English,  will  it  ever 
learn  to  speak  well?  There  should  be  a  process  of 
education  going  on  continually,  by  which  all  the  mem 
bers  of  the  church  shall  be  able  to  contribute  of  their 
experiences  and  gifts  ;  and  in  such  a  course  of  deve 
lopment,  the  first  hesitating,  stumbling,  ungrammati- 
cal  prayer  of  a  confused  Christian  may  be  worth 
more  to  the  church  than  the  best  prayer  of  the  most 
eloquent  pastor.  The  prayer  may  be  but  little ;  but 
it  is  not  a  little  thing  that  a  church  has  one  man 
more  to  pray  than  it  had  before. 
In  order  to  this,  pastors,  or  whoever  conducts  the 


14:4:  PKAYEK-MEETINGS. 

prayer-meeting  statedly,  should  have  a  distinct  con 
ception  of  what  a  prayer-meeting  is  to  do.  It  is  a 
mutual  instruction  class ;  a  place  for  religious  feeling 
to  develop  itself  through  the  social  element ;  and  the 
conductor  of  the  meeting  is  to  draw  out  the  timid, 
check  the  obtrusive,  encourage  simple  and  true  speak 
ing,  and  apply  religious  truths  to  those  wants,  and 
struggles,  and  experiences  which  are  freely  mentioned 
there. 

A  few  hints,  gathered  from  experience,  will  be, 
perhaps,  of  some  benefit  to  those  who  are  young,  and 
beginning  to  assume  the  duties  of  pastor. 

There  is  no  meeting  for  which  one  needs  more  pre 
paration  than  a  prayer-meeting.  But  it  is  not  a  pre 
paration  of  thoughts,  ideas,  and  topics,  so  much  as  of 
the  spirit  and  of  the  soul.  One  should  save  his 
strength ;  come  to  the  meeting  with  vigor  and  full 
ness  of  feeling,  and  already  eager  when  he  first  sits 
down. 

The  way  in  which  a  meeting  opens  will  often 
determine  its  whole  character.  If  the  brethren  are 
scattered  through  a  large  room,  bring  them  closer  to 
gether.  Slow  and  long  services  at  the  beginning  in 
crease  the  sluggishness  which  too  often  is  brought  in. 
A  short  hymn,  adapted  to  move  the  feelings,  sung 
quickly — so  quickly  that  every  one  has  to  arouse 
himself  to  keep  up — will  frequently  give  life  to  the 
whole  scene. 

A  church  should  be  trained  to  courage.  They 
should  be  thoroughly  indoctrinated  not  to  despise  the 
gifts  of  the  meanest  member. 

When  there  is  piety  in  a  church,  and  the  prayer- 


PRAYER-MEETINGS.  145 

meeting  becomes  the  exponent  of  it,  then  it  will  be 
come  the  most  powerful  and  important  meeting  in 
the  whole  series  of  church  meetings.  A  fair  account, 
from  grateful  lips,  of  what  God  is  doing  in  the  hearts 
of  a  whole  church,  cannot  but  be  better  than  the 
ideas  of  any  one  man,  uttered  from  the  pulpit,  speak 
he  ever  so  wisely. 

But  if  our  friend  still  wants  a  form  of  prayer,  for  a 
prayer-meeting,  we  must  refer  him  to  numerous 
churches,  where  forms  of  prayer  have  prevailed  for 
uncounted  years,  although  they  are  called  extempo 
raneous  ;  and,  if  he  have  some  skill  at  stenography,  he 
can  soon  supply  himself  with  a  book  of  forms  of 
prayer. 


ONE  CAUSE    OF  DULL  MEETINGS. 

WE  hardly  know  of  a  more  unprofitable  exercise 
in  social  religious  meetings  than  what  is  called  ex 
hortation.  Doubtless  there  is  a  scriptural  warrant 
for  exhortation.  But  what  is  the  nature  of  the  ex 
ercise  ?  It  is  the  persuasion  of  a  man  to  accept  or 
obey  some  view  of  truth.  The  force  of  it  depends 
upon  the  force  given  to  the  truth.  It  must  needs 
relate  principally  to  conduct.  If  one  desires  to  pro 
duce  intellectual  convictions,  the  way  is  not  to  ex 
hort  to  them,  but  to  present  truths  which  of  their 
own  nature  will  convict.  If  one  desires  to  enkindle 
feeling  it  is  folly  to  exhort  to  it ;  for  feeling  arises 
from  the  view  of  truth,  and  he  who  wishes  to  thrill 
the  feelings  must  employ  the  truths  which  have  a 
power  to  do  it :  or  he  must  impart  it  by  sympathy, 
being  himself  full  of  emotion ;  or  what  is  better,  and 
the  true  method,  he  must  present  the  right  truth  from 
a  soul  already  glowing  with  the  feeling  which  it  is 
sought  to  enkindle. 

o 

Therefore,  when  a  brother  arises  in  a  prayer  and 
conference  meeting,  unmoved  himself,  and  exhorts 
men  to  repent,  without  presenting  powerful  motives 
through  such  views  of  its  necessity  as  shall  incline 
them  to  it,  and  without  any  exhibition  of  a  deeply 
penitential  feeling  in  himself,  he  throws  away  his 
efforts,  and  sometimes  does  harm  rather  than  good. 
"We  have  heard  man  after  man  in  succession  arise 

146 


ONE   CAUSE   OF   DULL   MEETINGS.  147 

and  exhort  Christian  brethren  with  such  a  dead 
ening  effect  that  if  there  was  a  spark  alive  at 
first,  it  was  quenched  past  all  rekindling  before 
the  exhortation  was  done.  During  many  a  long, 
dry,  sound,  sober  exhortation  which  has  been  in 
flicted  upon  long-suffering  meetings,  we  have  seen 
men  exhorted  into  sleep,  and  exhorted  into  helpless 
stupidity,  into  yawning,  and  wreariness;  and  there 
would  be  but  a  single  truth  that  seemed  to  touch  a 
genuine  chord  of  feeling  during  the  whole  meeting, 
and  that  wras  the  truth  that  it  was  time  to  close  the 
meeting.  A  dull,  unmeaning,  religious  meeting  is  sim 
ply  an  abomination.  If  a  husband  and  wife  should  get 
together,  once  a  week,  and  without  a  particle  of  feeling 
or  earnestness,  go  through  with  an  hour  of  affection 
ate  etiquette,  it  would  be  regarded  as  a  supreme  ab 
surdity.  If  business  men  should  gather  together 
once  or  twice  a  week  in  grave  consideration  of  things 
which  no  one  of  them  at  the  time  cared  anything 
about,  and  talk  them  over  on  this  side  and  on  that,  each 
one  forgetting  at  the  door  what  he,  and  what  his  neigh 
bor  had  said,  men  would  say  that  they  were  fools. 

Such  things  are  seldom  or  never  done  in  things  in 
which  men  are  alive.  But  for  months  and  months 
together,  men  will  gather,  without  a  ray  of  warmth, 
without  any  real  earnestness,  and  talk  in  a  drowsy 
and  prosing  manner  about  the  most  startling  truths 
tlrat  were  ever  addressed  to  the  human  knowledge, 
in  such  a  lifeless  method  that  not  a  single  thought 
moved  responsive,  and  not  a  single  emotion 
throbbed ! 

Let  us  imagine  a  man  suffering  the  deepest  afflio 


14:8  ONE   CAUSE   OF   DULL   MEETINGS. 

tions  and  pressed  by  trouble  beyond  all  ordinary 
power  of  endurance  standing  up  among  a  score  of 
friends  in  like  afflictions,  and  saying  in  a  gentle  voice, 
whose  tones  were  mellowed  by  the  deepest  emotions, 
"Dear  friends,  the  hand  of  God  is  upon  us.  Let  us 
not  sink.  Let  patience  have  a  perfect  work.  We 
must.be  tried.  "Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasten- 
eth.  "We  are  now  in  the  fire,  but  God  is  with  us. 
Let  us  be  patient."  Every  heart  would  yield  to  such 
an  exhortation.  For  conscious  troubles  would  be 
the  truth,  and  an  exhortation  to  patience  would  have 
a  vital  relation  to  their  living  wants. 

But  what  if,  amidst  great  abundance,  with  homes, 
and  friends,  and  affluence,  in  times  of  peace,  and 
when  life  flowed  with  music,  like  a  vocal  brook  be 
tween  banks  of  flowers  and  fringed  shrubs,  a  reason 
ably  good  man  should  commence  a  scriptural  exhorta 
tion  about  patience — its  virtues,  it  necessities,  our  ob 
ligations  to  exercise  it,  etc.,  who  would  be  reached? 
Perhaps  here  and  there  a  conscientious  soul  might  re 
proach  itself  because  it  did  not  feel ;  but  feeling,  un 
der  such  unnatural  circumstances,  is  past  all  con 
science-invocation. 

In  like  manner  Christians  are  very  composedly  told 
that  they  are  dead  and  good  for  nothing ;  that  they 
are  not  doing  their  duty.  One  man,  with  a  familiar 
fluency  evincing  long  practice  will  declare  in  the 
soberest  and  quietest  way  imaginable  that  he  is  a 
great  sinner,  and  he  is  conscious  of  it,  and  that  he 
feels  that  he  ought  to  repent,  and  thinks  that  the 
brethren  ought  to  join  him  in  the  impression.  One 
man  for  the  fortieth  time  during  the  year,  exhorts 


ONE   CAUSE   OF   DULL   MEETINGS.  149 

brethren  to  awake  because  the  night  is  far  spent  and 
the  day  is  at  hand.  Another  thinks  that  Christians 
ought  to  rejoice  in  God,  and  without  a  smile  or  one 
heart-swell,  sets  forth  with  frigid  exactitude  the  duty 
of  joy,  and  sits  down  to  hear  another  brother  say  the 
same  thing  over  again,  in  another  set  of  words,  if  pos 
sible  more  gloomy  than  those  in  which  he  had  enun 
ciated  it.  In  this  manner,  too,  we  have  heard  men,  pro 
foundly  engrossed  in  the  world,  rise  up  and  exliwt 
sinners  to  repent ;  to  repent  before  it  was  too  late ;  to 
repent  now — it  was  their  duty ;  it  was  dangerous  to 
put  it  off,  etc.,  but  not  a  sign  of  feeling  had  they.  No 
heart-heaving — no  deep  and  disclosed  sense  of  the 
hatefulness  of  sin,  none  of  that  softening  and  gush 
ing  which  belong  to  penitence.  It  is  worse  than  ab 
surd,  it  is  monstrous  for  men  to  mouth  the  most 
solemn  facts,  the  most  profoundly  affecting  truths  of 
religion,  as  if  they  were  rolling  marbles,  or  discussing 
some  trifle  to  while  away  an  hour  withal.  The  ear  of  a 
congregation  often  and  often  has  been  beaten  hard  as 
a  macadamized  road  by  the  weekly  tramp  of  exhorta 
tion  about  truth,  and  to  truth,  and  duty,  and  what  not. 
Life  is  the  characteristic  of  God.  Life  is  the  charac 
teristic  of  Religion.  Life  is  the  characteristic  of  Trrth. 
A  dull  assembly,  with  lifeless  men  talking  about  dead 
topics,  is  a  scandal  upon  real  religion. 

This  matter  grows  even  worse,  if  possible,  when 
one  listens  to  the  dissuasives  from  courses  to  which 
the  persons  addressed  have  not  the  remotest  liability. 
Thus  a  church  dead  beyond  all  budding  or  blossoming, 
is  exhorted  to  beware  of  wildfire  and  fanaticism ;  a 
slow-moulded  methodical  brotherhood,  exact  as  ^ 


150  ONE   CAUSE    OF   DULL   MEETINGS. 

clock,  are  exhorted  to  discretion,  to  deliberation,  and 
cautioned  against  impulses.  A  man  of  the  most  in 
corrigible  literalness,  whose  matter-of-fact  soul  never 
had  a  glimpse  of  any  quality  which  was  not  measur 
able  by  one  of  his  senses,  will  descant  upon  the  wiles 
of  the  imagination,  and  warn  the  young  against  fancy 
and  fiction.  A  close-fisted  man  is  in  great  dread  of 
spendthrift  benevolence,  and  thinks  that  Christians 
should  always  give  upon  principle  and  not  on  feeling. 
On  the  other  hand  we  have  heard  a  man  of  mercurial 
temperament  greatly  dreading  lest  he  should  be  left 
to  a  heartless  control  of  his  judgment ! 

Thus  men  impose  upon  themselves ;  and  social 
religious  meetings  degenerate  into  absurd  formalities. 
If  any  one  thinks  that  liturgies  and  set  forms  of  wor 
ship  are  the  only  means  of  dullness  and  formality, 
they  surely  cannot  have  been  much  acquainted  with 
prayer-meetings.  They  cannot  have  heard  the  same 
prayers  substantially  repeated  by  the  same  men, 
varying  only  in  a  growing  glibness  and  dryness,  for 
years  and  years  ;  they  cannot  have  heard  the  juice- 
less,  tasetless  exhortations  about  feelings,  from  persons 
without  feeling  to  persons  without  feeling ;  they  can 
not  have  seen  the  hour  and  a  half  of  weekly  confer 
ence  run  the  same  dreary  round,  beginning  and  end 
ing,  with  intermediate  consistency,  without  a  sign  of 
life,  but  with  an  utterly  lying  semblance,  a  pretence 
of  caring  for  what  they  did  not  care  for ;  of  renounc 
ing  what  all  the  world  knew  they  did  not  renounce  ; 
of  asking  what  they  did  not  desire,  and  desiring  what 
they  did  not  dare  to  ask. 


WORKING  OUT  OUR   OWN  SALVATION. 

THERE  is  a  sense  in  which  a  man's  salvation  is  not 
directly  and  absolutely  a  divine  gift.  It  is  not  made 
over  by  God  to  man  as  a  complete  thing.  A  perfect 
title  to  a  piece  of  property  puts  a  man  in  possession 
of  it  just  as  absolutely  on  the  first  day  when  it  is 
given  as  in  twenty  years  after.  When  a  man  gives  a 
flower,  it  is  a  perfect  gift.  But  the  gift  of  grace  is 
rather  the  gift  of  a  flower-seed.  It  contains  within  it 
all  the  elements  necessary  for  growth,  which  the 
sun  is  yet  to  warm  and  develop,  until  it  comes  tc 
blossom  and  fruit.  When  men  are  called  effectually 
by  the  power  of  God's  Spirit,  that  is  purely  the  office 
of  God,  and  not  of  a  human  power.  The  calling  is  of 
God,  and  the  forgiveness  and  amnesty  are  altogether 
of  His  free  goodness.  The  efficacious  influence  of  the 
Spirit  upon  the  heart  is  God's  work,  and  not  man's. 

But  when  this  has  taken  place,  and  men  are 
awakened  and  brought  into  the  number  of  God's 
children,  the  work  is  just  begun.  There  is  now  to  be 
a  development  of  a  Christ-like  disposition.  There  is 
to  be  a  life  within,  which  is  to  consist  in  a  develop 
ment  of  every  part  of  the  mind,  so  that  the  whole 
soul  shall  be  reeducated  by  spiritual  influences. 
There  is  to  be  also  a  corresponding  outward  life — a 
course  of  Christ-like  conduct.  Every  man  is  called, 
and  graciously  aided  by  God,  that  he  may  take  care 

151 


152  WORKING   OUT   OUR   OWN   SALVATION. 

both,  of  the  work  which  respects  his  own  disposition, 
and  the  work  which  respects  his  outward  conduct. 
And  when  the  Apostle  says,  "  Work  out  your  own 
salvation  with  fear  and  trembling,"  it  is  not  meant 
with  servile  or  painful  fear,  but  fear  in  the  sense  of 
solicitude ;  fear,  in  distinction  from  presumptuous 
confidence. 

But,  it  is  added,  "  for  it  is  God  that  worketh  in 
you."  Here  is  the  inspiration  of  man's  liberty,  and 
the  charter  of  his  hope.  Standing  in  the  atmosphere 
of  the  divine  heart,  every  one  finds  that  his  summer 
is  come.  The  doctrine  is  not,  that  every  man  must 
wait  till  God  moves  him.  It  is  a  command  to  go  for 
ward,  with  a  reason  attached.  It  is  an  encourage 
ment,  not  a  dissuasion.  It  is  wrong,  by  the  twists  of 
perverse  reasoning,  to  change  a  divine  truth  right 
about,  and  put  its  back  where  God  put  its  face. 

Many  teachers  have  made  an  anchor  out  of  this 
text,  which  God  spread  for  a  sail,  and  have,  in  effect, 
cautioned  people  not  to  move  till  God  attracted 
them ;  as  if  the  chief  danger  of  men  was  too  great 
alertness  in  matters  pertaining  to  religion. 

When  God  calls  men  to  awake,  it  is  implied  that 
the  morning  has  come.  When  God  says,  Plant,  it  is 
implied  that  soil,  air,  and  summer  are  prepared ;  and 
he  speaks  to  April,  not  to  January ! 

And  when  God  says,  Work,  it  is  implied  that  there 
are  all  those  conditions  of  providence  and  divine  over 
shadowing  which  make  it  worth  a  man's  while  to  work. 

But  many  say,  "How  can  I  work  if  it  be  God 
that  is  to  work  within  me  ?"  Well,  if  a  father,  going 
out  into  his  garden  where  his  child  is  at  work  among 


WORKING   OUT   OUK   OWN    SALVATION.      .         153 

the  flower-beds,  should  say  to  him,  "  Now  my  son 
work  with  a  will,  I  will  help  you  and  work  with 
you,"  what  would  be  thought  if  the  child  should 
suddenly  look  up  and  say,  "  But  if  you  are  going  to 
work,  how  can  I  work  ?"  Is  there  anything  incon 
gruous  or  paradoxical  in  the  idea  that,  though  God 
worketh  in  us,  we  also  are  to  work  out  our  own  sal 
vation  ?  It  is  not  said  that  God  performs  the  work, 
but  that  he  influences  us  to  perform  it.  It  is  not, 
that  God  works/br,  but  in,  us  ! 

The  work  of  the  Spirit  is  not  to  supersede,  but  to 
help  our  faculties.  It  is  akin  to  parental  training, 
to  education,  to  the  action  and  influence  of  one  mind 
upon  another.  Not  that  God's  mind  acts  upon  ours, 
just  as  ours  acts  upon  others ;  for  we  have  no  war 
rant  for  saying  this.  But  the  illustration  is  sufficient 
to  show,  that  one  mind  may  stimulate  another  to 
action  without  destroying  its  liberty.  The  young 
artist,  while  he  sits  under  Raphael,  or  Michael  Angelo, 
or  Correggio,  does  not  expect  to  have  his  work  done 
by  his  master.  He  goes  to  witness  and  to  catch 
his  master's  enthusiasm,  that  his  own  eye  may  be 
fired  and  his  own  hand  guided.  We  bring  up  our 
children  by  the  action  of  our  minds  upon  theirs. 
Our  influence  over  the  child  does  not  take  away  any 
thing  from  the  child's  power,  but  on  the  contrary 
adds  to  it.  And  so,  God  says  to  us,  "  Work  out 
your  own  salvation,  for  I  am  working  in  you."  It  is 
like  a  father  saying  to  his  children,  "  Here  am  I 
working  among  you,  adding  my  experience,  my  wis 
dom,  and  my  power  to  yours ;  therefore  be  hopeful 
and  courageous,  and  enter  with  zeal  upon  your 

7* 


154  WORKING   OUT   OUE   OWN   SALVATION. 

work."  It  is  an  argument  of  hope  and  ardor,  and 
not  of  waiting  and  faltering.  It  is  an  argument  to 
begin  now,  and  not  to  delay,  with  the  vain  thought 
that  God  will  finally  do  all  the  work  and  leave  us 
nothing  to  do. 

If  it  be  asked  how  shall  we  distinguish  divine  in 
fluence  from  natural,  the  reply  is,  We  cannot  always 
do  it.  There  is  no  intimation  in  the  Xew  Testa 
ment  that  anybody  can  tell.  If  a  husbandman 
wishes  to  know  whether  he  is  under  the  influence  of 
right  farming,  he  must  go  and  look  at  his  harvests. 
If,  therefore,  a  man  says,  "  How  can  I  tell  whether 
this  feeling  is  of  God  or  of  Satan  ?"  he  cannot  tell 
by  the  feeling,  but  by  its  results. 

It  is  the  same  act  that  plants  good  or  bad  seed. 
It  is  the  same  string  and  bow,  whether  a  scraping 
beginner  or  a  Paganini  play.  The  music  evolved 
must  determine  whether  a  master  or  a  bungler 
touches  the  violin.  The  human  faculties,  whether 
acted  upon  by  sinister  spirits,  by  divine  influences, 
or  by  natural  causes,  always  act  within  the  lines  and 
limits  of  their  own  laws  and  nature.  And  it  is  not 
any  difference  in  sensation  or  consciousness  which 
can  distinguish  divine  influence  from  any  other. 
We  must  abide  by  Christ's  rule  of  estimate,  "By 
their  fruit  shall  ye  know  them."  Is  the  fruit  good, 
is  there  enough  of  it,  is  it  continuous  ?  It  is  very 
certain  that  a  disposition  of  deep  benevolence,  a 
heart  of  unfeigned  love,  will  lead  a  man  in  the  right 
direction,  and  he  need  not  spend  one  anxious  thought 
lest  the  devil  should  have  inspired  him  with  such 
influence. 


WORKING   OUT   OUK   OWN    SALVATION.  155 

On  the  other  hand,  conceited  and  presumptuous 
men  are  found,  who,  assuming  that  they  are  under 
the  divine  influence  and  guidance,  follow  out  their 
own  selfish  and  fleshly  lusts,  and  attribute  it  all  to 
God.  But  no  man  can  have  any  evidence  that  he  is 
moved  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  except  so  far  as  the  fruit 
is  divine.  There  is  nothing  in  mere  consciousness, 
nothing  in  sensation,  nothing  in  any  witness  or  in 
ward  light,  nothing  in  any  degree  or  kind  of  exhila 
ration,  nothing  in  the  pleasurableness  or  other  quality 
of  the  feeling.  The  moral  quality  of  the  life  deter 
mines  whether  one  is  a  child  of  God,  or  of  the 
Devil. 

What,  then,  is  the  use  of  the  truth  of  God's  Spirit, 
if  you  cannot  discern  its  presence  or  action  ?  It  is 
good  for  general  hopefulness.  It  gives  men  courage 
to  know  that  they  are  divinely  helped,  though  they 
may  not  perceive  the  special  acts.  It  is  an  exorcism 
to  fear  and  superstition.  For  it  exhibits  the  world, 
as  illumined  and  overcome  by  the  gracious  presence 
of  God  working  both  in  Providence  and  in  grace, 
and  throwing  around  all  who  will  do  well  an  atmos 
phere  of  protection  and  genial  incitement,  in  which 
they  shall  thrive  and  bring  forth  abundant  fruit. 


TRUST    IN    GOD. 

IN  a  true  Christian's  devout  aspirations,  it  is  not 
from  instruction  or  habit,  but  from  spontaneous  im 
pulse  that  he  exclaims  "  Our  Father !"  His  thoughts 
go  out  after  God.  His  heart  yearns  for  him.  His 
soul  longs,  with  unutterable  longings  for  his  abiding 
presence.  He  conies  with  a  truly  filial  spirit  before 
God,  and  it  is  perfectly  easy  and  natural  for  him  to 
say  "  Our  Father."  And  he  has  a  right  to  say  it. 
He  is  the  child  of  God,  and  he  knows  it ;  for  "  the 
Spirit  itself  beareth  witness  with  our  spirits  that  we 
are  the  children  of  God."  Being  the  child  of  his 
Father,  and  away  from  his  Father's  house,  he  yearns 
for  it,  and  at  times  is  homesick — as  children  that  are 
kept  at  school  away  from  their  parents  long  for  the 
day  of  vacation,  that  they  may  go  home ;  and  these 
yearnings  are  the  testimony  of  the  Spirit  that  we  are 
the  children  of  God.  The  man  who  has  these  feel 
ings,  and  has  them  habitually,  need  not  hesitate  to 
call  himself  a  child  of  God,  or  to  address  God  as 
"  Our  Father." 

There  are  some  Christians  who  always  seem  to 
have  entire  and  unwavering  faith  in  God  as  their 
Father.  They  trust  in  him  to  such  a  degree  as  to 
believe  that  whatever  may  be  the  happenings  of  Pro 
vidence,  everything  will  be  for  the  best,  and  that 
they  will  be  taken  care  of,  and  never  left  alone. 

156 


TRUST   IN    GOD.  157 

xhey  are  confident  in  him,  and  seem  never  for  a  mo 
ment  to  doubt.  Their  cup  always  runs  over,  because 
the y  always  think  it  runs  over.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  are  others  who,  while  they  are  blessed  abundantly, 
never  see  or  think  that  they  are  blessed  at  all.  And 
this  class  comprises  the  multitude  of  men.  They  call 
God  "  Our  Father,"  only  because  the  Lord's  Prayer 
begins  so,  and  not  because  their  own  prayer  naturally 
and  spontaneously  confesses  that  they  are  his  child 
ren,  and  that  he  is  their  Father.  They  have  doubts 
and  glooms.  They  have  fightings  without,  and  fears 
within.  They  allow  small  things  to  perplex  them, 
and  great  things  to  overwhelm  them.  They  distrust 
God — not  intentionally,  but  really.  They  doubt  his 
providence,  though  they  would  hardly  believe  that 
they  doubt.  They  habitually  look  on  the  dark  side 
of  things,  and  excuse  themselves  for  it  by  saying  that 
they  are  constitutionally  melancholy ;  whereas,  the 
fault  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  practical  want 
of  faith.  It  is  an  unconscious  skepticism  of  God. 
Men  theoretically  extol  their  faith,  but  practically 
deny  it.  They  give  way  before  every  trouble,  in 
stead  of  conquering  it ;  and  in  every  dark  hour  flee 
for  refuge,  not  to  God,  but  to  themselves. 

Now  all  Christians,  whether  hopeful  or  despond 
ent,  are  sometimes  like  the  disciples  on  the  Sea  of 
Galilee — driven  hither  and  thither  by  contrary  winds. 
They  toil  all  the  Bright  upon  the  deep,  casting  their 
nets,  but  taking  nothing.  Nay,  oftentimes,  their  sea 
is  without  a  Christ  walking  upon  the  water,  and  their 
nhip  without  a  Christ  even  asleep.  Yet  when  they 
desire  his  coining  upon  the  sea,  and  cry  out  to  him, 


158  TRUST   IN   GOD. 

they  soon  see  him  walking  to  them  over  the  waves. 
When  they  desire  his  awakening  in  the  ship,  they 
soon  see  him  rising  to  rebuke  the  wind,  saying, 
"  Peace,  be  still,"  until  there  is  a  great  calm.  God 
hides  his  face  only  to  disclose  it  again ;  and  his 
hidings  are  oftentimes  as  full  of  mercy  as  his  mani 
fested  presence.  But  whether  to  their  feeble-sighted 
eyes  he  is  present  or  absent,  they  may  always  know 
that  "  He  is  not  far  from  them  at  any  time."  When 
there  are  clouds  so  that  they  cannot  see  him,  they 
may  look  at  him  through  faith,  and  discern  that  he  is 
not  far  off.  And  as  they  that  go  down  upon  the  deep, 
and  are  overmastered  by  storms  in  the  darkness  of 
the  night,  knowing  not  on  what  strange  shores  they 
may  be  thrown,  cast  anchor  and  wait  for  day,  so  in 
the  midst  of  trial  and  temptation,  when  the  storm  is 
fierce  and  the  night  is  dark,  when  the  lights  are 
quenched  and  the  signals  gone,  they  may  at  least  cast 
anchor ;  and  if  they  wait  in  faith  and  hope  for  the 
day,  it  will  surely  dawn.  The  darkness  will  always 
hide  itself,  and  the  light  appear.  There  never  was  a 
night  so  long  that  the  day  did  not  overtake  it. 
There  never  was  a  morning  without  its  morning  star. 
There  never  was  a  day  without  its  sun. 

God  can  reveal  himself  to  his  own  people  as  he 
does  not  to  the  world.  He  can  give  to  every  Christ 
ian  heart,  to  the  timid  as  well  as  to  the  strong,  to  the 
sorrowing  as  well  as  to  the  hopeful,  those  divine  inti 
mations,  those  precious  thoughts,  those  sweet-breathed 
feelings,  which  are  evidence  that  there  is  summer  in 
the  soul.  He  can  inspire  the  heart  with  that  perfect 
love  which  casteth  out  fear.  He  can  take  away  all 


TRUST   IN   GOD.  159 

doubts  and  misgivings,  all  gloomy  misapprehensions, 
all  -dreary  forebodings  of  the  future.  He  can  make 
sunshine  out  of  shadow,  and  day  out  of  midnight. 
"When  our  fears  have  been  like  growing  thorns  in  our 
side,  he  can  pluck  away  the  thorns,  and  heal  the 
wounds ;  and  he  can  turn  every  spear  which  has 
pierced  us  into  a  rod  and  staff,  which,  instead  of 
wounding  shall  support  us ;  so  that  the  very  things 
which  once  cast  us  down  may  be  made  to  hold 
us  up.  He  can  so  deal  with  us  as  to  make  every 
yoke  easy,  and  every  burden  light ;  so  that  the 
heavy-laden  may  come  to  him  to  be  relieved  of  their 
loads.  He  can  touch  the  fountains  of  our  sorrow, 
and  make  our  tears  like  gems  and  crystals,  more 
precious  than  pearls  or  diamonds.  Our  tears  are 
oftentimes  among  his  most  precious  treasures.  The 
tilings  that  we  call  treasures,  he  counts  as  of  very  little 
worth.  The  human  soul  is  his  treasury,  out  of  which 
he  coins  unspeakable  riches.  Thoughts  and  feelings, 
desires  and  yearnings,  faith  and  hope — these  are  the 
most  precious  things  which  God  finds  in  us. 

He  can  do  all  things  for  us,  whatsoever  we  need, 
and  more  than  we  need.  "We  are  too  slow  to  believe 
in  his  generosity.  We  do  not  often  enough  think 
that  as  he  has  infinite  desires  to  help  us,  so  also  he 
has  infinite  powers.  He  is  able  to  carry  out  all  that 
he  can  ever  wish  for  us.  God  is  not  like  man.  Our 
means  are  limited.  "With  us,  wishing  to  possess  is 
far  from  possessing ;  wishing  to  do  is  far  from  doing ; 
but  with  him,  the  wish  and  the  power  are  one.  His 
desires  are  fully  equalled  by  his  means.  He  is  "  able 
to  do  exceeding  abundantly  above  all  that  we  can 


160  TRUST    IN    GOD. 

ask  or  think."  Things  that  are  great  to  us  are  small 
to  him.  The  favors  that  we  ask  of  him  seem  to  us  to 
be  large  and  royal ;  •  yet  to  him  they  are  very  little 
things.  The  gifts  he  has  power  to  bestow  are  not 
only  greater  than  wTe  ever  ask,  but  ever  can  ask,  or 
even  think. 

He  is  always  willing  to  give  special  grace  for  spe 
cial  emergency.  If  men  are  suddenly  brought  into 
trouble,  He  is  "  a  very  present  help  in  time  of  need." 
When  rich  men,  by  some  unexpected  reverse  of  for 
tune,  are  made  poor,  he  can  sustain  them  under  their 
burdens,  when  without  him  they  would  be  utterly 
crushed.  "When  friends  are  parted  from  friends, 
when  families  are  broken  and  scattered  by  death, 
when  the  mother  loses  her  child,  and  weeps  because 
the  cradle  is  no  longer  to  be  rocked,  and  the  sweet 
laugh  is  hushed  in  the  house,  God  can  give  "  the  oil 
of  joy  for  mourning."  Whenever  his  children  suffer 
disappointment,  when  clouds  cast  shadows  over  their 
path,  when  troubles  brood  heavily  before  them,  when 
they  are  in  trials  of  business  or  in  greater  trials  of 
bereavement,  he  can  take  off  the  heavy  weights. 
He  can  make  the  rough  places  smooth,  and  the 
crooked  ways  straight.  "When  sorrow  comes  that 
seems  to  forbid  all  consolation,  he  can  gently  wipe 
away  the  tears,  and  bring  back  joy  and  hope  once 
more. 

He  is  a  physician  who  only  waits  to  be  called  ;  he 
is  a  friend  who  longs  to  be  trusted ;  he  is  a 
helper  who  only  wants  us  to  ask  his  aid.  But  he 
wants  us  to  ask  him  heartily  and  truthfully.  He 
wishes  us  to  reach  up  our  hand,  and  take  covenant  by 


TRUST   IN    GOD.  161 

his  hand.  He  desires  us  to  cast  our  care  upon  him, 
for  he  careth  for  uS.  He  commands  us  to  confide 
entirely  in  him.  He  wants  us  to  have  no  hesitancy 
in  our  faith. 

And  this  is  reasonable.  It  is  what  men  ask  every 
day  of  their  own  children.  A  father  expects  his 
child  to  confide  in  him.  A  child  expects  to  trust 
freely  in  his  father.  And  we  ought  to  go  to  God, 
being  his  children,  with  less  distrust  and  more  confi 
dence.  We  ought  to  take  him  at  his  word,  and  to 
have  faith  in  his  promises.  If  he  has  said,  "  I  will 
never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee,"  we  ought  boldly 
to  say,  "  The  Lord  is  my  helper  ;  I  will  not  fear  what 
man  shall  do  unto  me." 

But  when  we  borrow  trouble,  and  look  forward 
into  the  future  to  see  what  storms  are  coming,  and 
distress  ourselves  before  they  come  as  to  how  we 
shall  avert  them  if  they  ever  do  come,  we  lose  our  pro 
per  trustfulness  in  God.  When  we  torment  ourselves 
with  imaginary  dangers,  or  trials,  or  reverses,  we 
have  already  parted  with  that  perfect  love  which 
casteth  out  fear.  Mothers  sometimes  fret  themselves, 
and  are  made  miserable  about  the  future  career  of 
their  children — whether  they  will  turn  out  drunkards 
or  not,  whether  they  will  go  to  the  gallows  or  not, 
whether  they  will  be  a  disgrace  to  their  parentage  or 
not.  Now  all  this  is  simply  an  evidence  of  a  lack 
of  faith.  There  are  many  persons  in  good  health, 
with  all  their  faculties  in  active  exercise,  who,  having 
nothing  else  to  worry  about,  rob  themselves  of  sleep 
at  night  by  thinking,  "  if  they  should  suddenly  be 
taken  away,  what  would  become  of  their  families^ 


162  TKUST   IN   GOD. 

and  who  would  take  care  of  their  children  2"  Such 
distrust  of  God  is  dishonorable* to  Christian  men; 
and  it  is  only  because  of  his  exceeding  patience — 
which  is  the  most  wonderful  attribute  of  the  divine 
nature — that  he  does  not  signally  rebuke  and  punish 
it  whenever  it  is  manifested. 

When  persons  are  taken  sick,  they  ought  to  bear 
it  with  a  good  grace;  but  nine  out  of  ten,  even 
among  Christian  men,  repine  and  murmur.  When 
they  are  visited  with  any  trouble,  their  first  thought 
is  apt  to  be,  "How  grievously  I  am  afflicted!"  though 
the  nobler  thought  would  be,  "  How  graciously  I  am 
sustained !"  "When  a  cross  is  laid  upon  them,  they 
cry  out,  "  What  a  burden  I  have  to  carry  !"  whereas 
they  might  better  say,  "What  a  burden  Christ 
carries  for  me !"  A  Christian  sailor,  who  lost  one  of 
his  legs  in  the  battle  of  Trafalgar,  said  that  he  could 
very  often  measure  the  faith  of  the  people  who  con 
versed  with  him  by  the  way  in  which  they  alluded  to 
his  misfortune.  Nine  out  of  every  ten  would  exclaim, 
"  What  a  pity  that  you  lost  your  leg  !"  and  only  one 
in  ten,  "What  a  blessing  that  the  other  was  pre 
served  !"  When  God  comes  into  the  family  and 
takes  away  one  child,  instead  of  complaining  because 
he  has  taken  one,  it  would  be  wiser  to  thank  him 
that  he  has  left  the  rest.  Or  he  may  crush  a  man's 
business,  and  strip  him  of  all  his  worldly  wealth,  and 
yet  leave  untouched  and  uninvaded  what  is  dearer 
than  all — the  cradle  of  his  only  child.  Would  it 
not  be  nobler  for  such  a  man  to  be  thankful  for  what 
God  left  than  to  murmur  for  what  he  took  away  ? 
"  The  Lord  givetli  and  the  Lord  taketh  away,"  but 


TRUST   IN    GOD.  163 

he  always  gives  more  than  he  takes  away.  If  God 
robs  a  man  of  his  "riches,  he  leaves  him  his  health, 
which  is  better  than  riches.  If  he  takes  health  he 
leaves  wealth.  If  he  takes  both,  he  leaves  friends. 
And  if  he  takes  all  these — house  and  home,  and 
worldly  goods — God's  providence  is  not  yet  ex 
hausted,  and  he  can  make  blessings  out  of  other 
things  which  remain.  He  never  strips  a  man  en 
tirely  bare.  A  man  may  be  left  a  beggar  upon  the 
highway,  and  yet  be  able  to  give  unceasing  testi 
mony  to  God's  goodness  and  grace ! 

If  men  were  to  give  thanks  to  God  for  what  he 
permits  them  to  have,  rather  than  to  utter  com 
plaints  for  what  he  wisely  and  graciously  withholds, 
lie  might  not  unlikely  give  to  them  more  abundantly, 
if  for  no  other  reason  than  to  increase  their  gratitude. 

An  old  man,  who  is  now  without  home  or  friends — 
a  stranger  in  a  strange  land,  who  earns'  a  scanty  crust 
of  bread,  day  by  day,  by  selling  steel-pens  and  writ 
ing-paper  from  store  to  store,  and  from  street  to 
street,  in  New  York,  said  the  other  day,  that  though 
he  had  several  times  been  so  reduced  as  to  be  for  a 
period  of  forty-eight  hours  and  longer  without  a 
morsel  to  eat,  he  never  lost  his  trust  in  Providence, 
and  always  rebuked  himself  whenever  he  complained 
at  his  lot !  This  man's  faith  was  genuine  !  He  was 
a  hero  in  rags,  greater  than  many  a  hero  in  armor ! 

God's  goodness  is  large  and  generous ;  only  our 
faith  in  it  is  small  and  mean.  He  carries  the  wdiole 
globe  in  his  thoughtful  providence,  easier  than  a 
mother  carries  a  babe  in  her  arms.  If  we  cannot  see 
the  end  from  the  beginning,  what  matters  it  so  long 


TRUST    IN    GOT). 


as  he  sees  it  ?  What  have  we  to  do  but  to  seek  first 
the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness,  and  leave 
the  rest  in  faith  to  him? 

"We  ought  not  to  forget  that  an  affectionate,  con 
fiding,  tender  faith,  habitually  exercised,  would  save 
us  half  the  annoyances  of  life,  for  it  would  lift  us 
up  above  the  reach  of  them.  If  an  eagle  were  to 
fly  low  along  the  ground,  every  man  might  aim  a 
dart  at  it,  but  when  it  soars  into  the  clouds,  it  is 
above  every  arrow's  reach.  And  they  that  trust  in 
God  «  shall  mount  up  with  wings  as  eagles  ;  they 
shall  run  and  not  be  weary  ;  and  they  shall  walk  and 
not  faint."  Christ's  invitation  is:  «  Come  unto  me, 
all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  wil 
give  you  rest.  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn 
of  me  ;  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart;  and  ye 
shall  find  rest  unto  your  soul.  For  my  yoke  is  easy, 
and  my  burden  is  light." 


"WE  SPEND  OUK  YEARS  AS  A  TALE  THAT  IS  TOLD." 

WHO  that  goes  into  the  garden  to-day  would  ever 
dream  that  summer  had  been  there?  In  midsum 
mer,  what  covering  of  the  earth,  what  abundance  of 
leaves,  what  fragrance  of  blossoms,  what  tangled 
masses  of  pendulous  vines !  All  is  growth,  luxuri 
ance,  ever-sprouting  varieties — the  passing  away  of 
short-lived  things  covered  by  the  fresh  growth  of 
new  kinds ! 

A  sound  comes  from  the  north !  It  is  the  voice  of 
Winter!  In  one  night  his  nimble  legions  come, 
and  the  sickling  frost  cuts  down  summer  to  the 
ground.  In  a  few  weeks  decay  is  over ;  freezing 
succeeds  frost,  and  summer  is  wiped  away,  with  all 
its  colors,  it  sights,  its  sounds  ;  and  sad  winds  mourn 
over  the  play  grounds  of  flowers ! 

When,  in  winter,  we  remember  the  summer,  its 
glories  seem  like  a  dream ;  it  is  no  longer  a  fact,  but 
a  thing  imagined.  But,  when  high  winds  walk 
abroad  in  the  winter,  and  drive  all  men  from  the 
fields,  and  the  house  is  populous,  the  family  is 
gathered,  and  the  night,  having  grown  long  by  rob 
bing  the  day  at  both  ends,  morning  and  evening,  of 
many  hours,  the  household  cheer  themselves  with 
industry  and  study.  And  at  evening,  all  gather  to 

165 


166  "  WE    SPEND    OUR   YEAKS 

their  various  tasks — the  father  to  his  books,  the 
mother  to  her  children's  treasures,  the  elder  children 
to  their  school  tasks,  while  the  rosy  child,  with  curled 
pate,  climbs  the  nurse's  knee — and  she  drones  to  him 
the  long  story,  hundred-times  told,  and  yet  falling 
fresh  as  new  upon  the  story-greedy  ears  of  childhood ! 
He  laughs,  he  weeps — he  sighs,  he  shudders — he 
glowrs  and  expands,  or  shrinks  and  cowers,  till  the 
tale  is  done — then  sitting  for  a  while  upon  the  stool 
by  the  mother's  foot,  the  child  grows  abstracted, 
gazing  into  the  pictured  embers,  seeing  all  manner 
of  fantastic  figures  and  changing  forms  upon  the 
opening  and  shutting  face  of  coals,  and  the  plastic 
ashes,  till  the  eye  sinks  and  the  head  nods,  and  the 
drooping  little  sleeper  is  borne  off  safe  to  bed. 

In  the  morning,  he  wakes  and  hungers.  The  night 
is  forgotten.  A  vague  remembrance  rests  with  him 
of  the  sweet  excitement  of  the  night.  But  the  day 
clears  off  these  fancies;  they  grow  more  and  more" 
dim;  they  lie  in  the  mind  as  films  of  spider-web 
float  with  long  thread  glistening  in  the  summer- 
air. 

And  thus,  saitli  the  Psalmist,  wre  spend  our  days  ! 
As  a  tale  that  is  told!  Years,  with  all  their  vast 
variety  of  incident,  are  remembered  vaguely — they 
are  thin  and  dreamy  !  The  present  glows  and  even 
burns  with  intensity.  But  it  is  quenched  when  a 
few  days  are  past !  Days  come  in  with  form,  and 
sound,  and  motion  like  the  coming  in  of  crested  weaves. 
Like  them,  they  break  upon  the  shore  of  the  present ; 
they  cover  it  with  a  million  evanescent  gems ;  they 
dissolve  and  flow  out  in  undertow,  and  are  lost  again 


AS   A   TALE   THAT   IS   TOLD."  167 

in  the  black  depths — while  new  days,  like  new 
waves,  foam,  sparkle  and  break,  as  did  they ! 

One  by  one  come  to  us  days  and  years.  Coming, 
they  have  individuality !  But  receding  from  us  they 
lose  all  separateness,  and  the  past  is  one  indistinguish 
able  whole. 

"Who  can  analyze  and  separate  the  years  of  his 
childhood  ?  From  birth  till  one  is  four  or  five,  the 
unripe  brain  receives  few  impressions  that  last.  It 
is  all  blank.  As  in  a  printed  book,  at  either  end,  are 
bound  up  many  blank  leaves,  without  print  or  writ 
ing  on  them,  so  is  human  life,  at  either  end,  begun 
and  ended  with  blank  years,  preserving  no  record — 
leaving  no  mark ! 

But,  then  come  the  youthful  days — full  of  romp, 
of  hunger,  of  growth,  of  childish  exhilaration !  How 
do  they  seem  to  you  now  ?  Are  they  separable  ? 
Can  you  thread  them,  and  paint  them  by  memory  ? 
Only  one  or  two  things  peculiary  significant  remain. 
The  days  are  huddled  together.  The  very  years  are 
heaped  in  mass;  and  you  think  back  upon  twenty 
years  as  if  they  were  but  a  hand-breadth  ! 

It  is  as  with  a  landscape  to  a  traveller.  Having 
journeyed  all  day,  at  evening  reaching  some  high 
hill,  he  sits  down  to  trace  his  path.  The  grass  at  his 
feet  is  plain  enough,  and  the  ants  that  run  express  up 
and  down  every  stalk  have  brisk  distinctness.  The 
near  bushes  and  the  trees  are  so  plain  that  the  boughs, 
and  separate  leaves,  stand  out  in  their  individual 
forms.  But,  as  the  view  recedes,  gradually  he  loses 
all  these ;  and  a  little  farther  ofl',  leaves  lie  upon 
leaves,  grass  is  matted  upon  grass,  and  is  no  longer 


168  "  WE   SPEND   OUR  TEARS 

form,  but  only  color.  Yet  farther,  and  trees  begin 
to  fade ;  tree  stands  up  upon  tree,  and  at  length 
whole  forests  are  to  the  eye  but  faint  clouds,  with  not 
one  distinct  line,  and  hills  are  rubbed  out,  and  all  the 
inequalities  of  the  way,  which  the  complaining  foot 
felt  in  travelling,  the  eye  no  longer  discerns,  and  only 
here  and  there  a  single  peak  or  mountain  remains 
clear  and  individual  against  the  all-bounding  sky ! 

Thus  is  it  in  life.  Our  nearer  hours  report  them 
selves  ;  a  little  farther,  and  days  only,  not  hours,  are 
discerned  ;  then  days  lapse,  and  weeks  or  months  are 
like  long  aerial  distances,  in  one  line,  whose  continuity 
is  measured  by  no  prominent  object.  At  length,  years 
only  can  be  seen,  and  not  even  these  finally.  For, 
as  sailors  leaving  the  harbor  carry  with  them  for  a 
long  time  the  sight  of  shore,  but  sailing  still,  lose  first 
the  low  water-lines,  but  cling  by  the  eye  to  the  higher 
masses,  which  in  time,  in  the  ever  sailing,  fade  and 
sink,  leaving  nothing  but  some  height  lifted  far  up 
like  Teneriffe,  which,  after  the  night  is  passed,  is  all 
gone,  hidden  by  the  bend  of  the  earth's  surface ! — so, 
even  high-topped  years  at  length  are  shut  down  from 
our  memory  by  the  bend  of  the  vast  cycles  of  Time. 

How  wonderfully  true  is  it  that  we  spend  our  lives 
as  a  tale  that  is  told ! 

Come,  go  back  with  me. 

Who  were  the  members  of  your  father's  family  ? 
Besides  your  brothers  and  sisters,  who  dwelt  there  ? 
"Who  visited?  Who  came  and  went?  Who  were 
the  neighbors  ?  These  things  were  vivid  realities  to 
you  when  a  child.  What  are  they  now?  Mere 
marks.  As  a  landscape  artist  plants  in  the  foreground 


169 

figures  with  limbs  and  features  clear,  but  in  the  far- 
off  distance,  when  he  would  paint  a  figure,  taking  his 
brush  and  spots  down  a  mere  dash — a  formless  color- 
mark  ;  so  to  us  are  the  living  things  of  the  neighbor 
hood.  Some,  to  be  sure,  stand  up  and  remain  !  But 
a  million  are  forgotten  where  one  remains. 

Who  went  with  you  to  the  village  school  ?  Call 
the  roll !  Who  were  the  successive  teachers — Popes 
of  the  ferule ! 

Who  were  the  girls?  Who  the  boys?  Then, 
when  the  uproarious  school  broke  forth  in  tumult  at 
dismissal,  if  I  had  asked  you,  you  could  have  given 
every  name.  Now,  call  them  up  !  Who  sat  by  you 
on  the  right  ?  who  on  the  left  ?  Who  were  in  the 
first  class  ?  who  in  the  second  ?  These  were  impor 
tant  things  then.  Who  was  whipped  ?  and  who  was 
never  once  struck?  These,  to  you,  were  then  more 
important  than  the  roar  of  European  revolution,  the 
burning  of  Moscow,  the  battle  of  Waterloo;  but 
what  do  you  remember  of  them  ?  Some  memories 
are  more  tenacious  than  others.  A  few  will  repro 
duce  much  ;  more,  some  ;  most,  but  little  if  any  ! 

How  much  can  you  recall  from  the  church  ?  Who 
went  with  you  ?  Who  sat  about  you  ?  Who  were 
the  old  men  ?  Who  were  in  their  prime  ?  And  who, 
like  yourself,  were  young?  And  if  these  living  and 
throbbing  realities  are  faded  out,  it  will  be  useless 
for  me  to  ask  you  after  the  sermons.  They  were 
gone  before  they  were  finished.  They  fell  upon  your 
dissolving  ear  as  flakes  of  snow  upon  water,  and  were 
gone  in  the  very  act  of  touching. 

How  much  do  you  recall  from  the  green  grave- 

8 


170  "  WE    SPEND   OTJE    YEAliS 

yard?  What  memories  come  thence,  from  that 
populous  city  without  a  magistrate,  without  a  law, 
where  all  who  quarrelled  on  earth,  are  now  peaceable 
dust  keeping  excellent  neighborhood  ! 

And  thus  I  might  go  on,  tracing,  step  by  step, 
your  entrance  upon  life — your  early  endeavors — your 
first  hopes  of  manhood. 

But,  let  us  change  the  method,  and  try  the  truth 
of  this  description  in  another  way. 

Call  up  the  unwritten  dreams  and  reveries  of  the 
past!  They  have  filled  years  in  all.  You  have 
woven  fabrics  of  every  pattern  in  the  loom  of  fancy. 
You  have  reared  up  castles,  peopled  them  with  heroes ; 
you  have  lost  and  found  treasures ;  travelled  and  ex 
plored,  fought  and  conquered,  loved  and  won,  all  in 
airy  fantasies ;  and  thus  worn  out  the  watchful  night, 
or  wiled  pain  from  consciousness  in  the  weary  sick 
ness.  Is  that  part  of  your  life  gone  ?  All  gone ! 

Birds  gathered  for  flight  in  autumn,  rising  high 
above  snare  or  shot,  and  flying  toward  equatorial 
summer,  often  chance  in  their  course  to  cast  a  feather, 
from  the  wing  which  carries  them  through  the  air — 
brilliant  in  color,  and  curved  like  a  bow — which, 
wavering,  and  swaying,  falls  into  some  thicket,  while 
they  flock  on.  And  when,  the  seasons  changing, 
they  are  recalled,  and  fly  now  northward  over  the 
same  ranges,  they  reach  the  spot  where  dropped  the 
spent  feather,  can  they  see  it,  or  find  it  any  more  ?  It 
is  lost  and  hidden  forever!  And  so  our  youthful 
fancies,  which  carried  us  far  above  human  life  and 
reality,  are  fallen,  and  like  the  downiest  feather  from 
the  wing,  are  lost  and  forgotten !  If  a  tale  that  is 


171 

told  fades,  how  much  rather  those  untold  traceries  of 
thought  and  subtilest  evolutions  of  inarticulate  fancy  ! 

Where  are  the  admirations  which  set  the  mind  all 
a-sparkle  ?  Where  is  the  record  of  the  wonders,  the 
surprises,  the  ten  thousand  excitements  which  broke 
the  level  of  life,  and  brought  interjections  to  the  lips  ? 
That  a  dull  routine  should  be  forgotten,  is  not  strange. 
But  where  are  the  salient  experiences  of  life,  the 
events  which  beat  upon  the  attention  like  a  drum,  or 
roused  up  your  passions  like  a  trumpet  ? 

Only  a  few  of  all  the  myriads  remain !  As  one 
who  goes  forth  from  a  populous  town,  often  looking 
back,  sees  it  shrinking  and  growing  smaller,  houses 
fading,  and  the  complexity  of  streets  and  buildings 
growing  to  a  mere  spot,  arid  at  length,  only  beholds 
here  and  there  a  long  spire  against  the  sky,  or  single 
tower,  all  the  rest  confused  and  hidden ;  so,  in  the 
past,  but  one  or  two  high-reaching  experiences 
remain,  while  all  the  diverse  and  populous  expe 
riences  besides  are  covered  down  and  forgotten ! 

Your  years  of  the  past  have  been  built  of  the  same 
materials  as  go  now  to  build  your  days.  What  rising 
and  falling  emotions,  what  flow  of  endless  thought, 
what  perpetual  succession  of  events,  which  arrest  the 
attention  and  occupy  the  feelings,  what  endeavors, 
what  successes,  what  failures,  each  with  its  train  of 
joy  or  pain,  and  each  so  important  as  to  seem  to  leave 
indelible  marks  upon  the  memory!  Yet,  though 
there  have  been  ten  millions  of  these,  and  though 
they  were  of  strength  sufficient  to  hold  you  in  their 
thrall,  and  excite  you  with  pleasure,  or  agitate  you 
with  alarm,  or  afflict  you  with  grief,  sweeping  the 


172  "  WE    SPEND   OUR   TEAKS 

soul  as  wind  sweeps  the  sea,  and  raising  as  many 
tumultuous  feelings  as  the  sea  hath  waves ;  yet,  now 
the  smooth  memory  has  shed  them  all !  The  trees 
will  sooner  remember  all  the  successive  leaves  whose 
bosoms  prepared  the  foo.d  for  the  growth  of  the  wood, 
than  you  will  recall  the  innumerable  experiences  of 
the  past  which  have  formed  and  fashioned  you  to  the 
shape  which  you  wear !  The  burdens  which  you 
could  not  carry  for  their  weight  are  forgotten,  the 
sorrows  that  pierced  you  to  the  heart  have  left 
scarcely  their  name  ;  the  troubles  that  blocked  your 
way,  the  dangers  that  shook  your  courage,  and  all 
those  things  which  in  their  time  wrung  from  you 
cries  and  prayers  for  relief, — you  have  not  alone  sur 
mounted  and  out-lived,  but  mostly  forgotten. 

Love,  alone,  stands  with  an  undiminished  memory ! 
What  we  have  once  really  loved  we  never  forget ! 
The  friendship  of  youth,  the  warm  and  generous  con 
fidences  of  true  affection,  the  tender  worship  of  a  true 
heart,  are  immutable !  All  other  feelings  write  their 
memories  upon  glass  with  crayons — Love  writes  upon 
crystal  with  a  diamond.  For,  of  all  the  heart's 
powers,  this  alone  is  sovereign.  And,  being  sove 
reign,  God  has  crowned  it  writh  immortality,  and 
given  to  Memory  charge  to  keep  unwasted  all  its 
experiences !  And  Memory,  that  is  tenacious  of 
nothing  else,  lets  nothing  slip  of  the  experiences  of 
true  loving. 

Another  year  has  passed!  Its  months  and  its 
weeks  already  are  buried.  Only  days  and  hours 
remain.  These  are  passing.  One  more  sunrise  only 


173 


hath  this  year !  The  next  morning  shall  shine  upon 
the  face  of  a  new  year ! 

Let  us  turn,  and  bid  farewell  to  the  past  and  the 
passing !  Farewell  to  its  cares,  to  its  burdens,  to  its 
troubles !  Farewell  to  fears,  and  hopes,  and  griefs ! 
Farewell  to  its  yearnings,  its  aspirations,  its  wrest 
lings  !  They  are  gone. 

Farewell  to  many  who  walked  -the  year  with  us ! — 
to  the  companion,  that  was  to  us  as  an  angel  of  God, 
and  is,  now,  an  angel  with  God!  Farewell  to  the 
babe  that  was  ours,  and  is  God's,  and  therefore  more 
than  ever  ours,  though  beyond  the  reach  of  our  arms ! 
But,  the  heart  tends  it  yet,  and  cradles  it  more  vigi 
lantly  than  ever!  Farewell  to  our  Christian  bre 
thren,  who  have  heard  the  trumpet  before  us,  and 
gone  forward!  Year!  thy  march  is  ending!  Thy 
work  is  done !  Pass !  Disappear !  "We  shall  see 
thee  no  more,  until  re-ascending,  we  shall  behold  thy 
record  in  the  All-judging  Day ! 


3UDDEN    CONVERSION. 

IT  is  a  fact  somewhat  remarkable  that  most  of  the 
conversions  narrated  in  the  Bible  were  rapid  and  in 
some  instances  instantaneous.  Paul,  on  his  way  to 
Damascus,  was  struck  down,  in  a  moment  by  the  visi 
ble  presence  of  God.  He  saw  a  great  light  at  mid-day, 
and  heard  a  voice  saying,  "  Saul,  Saul,  why  persecu- 
test  thou  me  ?"  and  he  was  so  suddenly  and  overwhelm 
ingly  impressed  by  this  manifestation  that  he  could 
do  nothing  but  yield  to  the  power  of  God ;  so  that 
from  being  a  persecutor  of  the  Church,  he  was  at 
that  moment  changed  to  be  its  chiefest  apostle.  Mat 
thew,  the  publican,  sitting '  at  the  receipt  of  custom, 
was  met  by  Christ,  who  said  to  him,  "Follow  thou 
me,"  and  it  is  said  that  "  he  arose  and  followed  him." 

The  conversion  of  the  thief  on  the  cross,  durino- 

o 

the  very  last  moments  of  his  life,  at  the  eleventh  hour 
of  hope,  was  almost  marvellously  sudden,  yet  not  on 
that  account  doubtful;  for  Christ  confirmed  it  by 
saying,  "This  day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Para 
dise." 

And  there  are  similar  instances  at  the  present  day. 
Sudden  and  unexpected  conversions  are  not  unknown 
to  any  Christian  church.  There  is  nothing  whatever 
absurd  in  the  idea,  however  some  may  affect  to  ridi 
cule  it.  A  conversion  which  takes  no  longer  time  to 

O 

begin  and  end,  than  the  sun  to  rise  from  day-break 

174 


SUDDEN   CONVERSION.  175 

to  the  mountain-top,  may  be  just  as  undoubted  as 
though  it  had  been  the  work  of  a  month  or  a  year. 
The  impression  that  a  spiritual  change,  in  order  to  be 
genuine,  must  be  a  long  and  gradual  process,  drag 
ging  itself  through  weary  weeks  and  months,  during 
which  the  mind  is  to  pass  through  much  anguish  and 
tribulation,  until  finally  the  light  shall  arise  and  shine, 
is  simply  foolish.  Time  adds  nothing  to  the  thorough- 
ness  of  conversion,  nor  suffering  to  the  evidence 
of  it.  In  many  cases  much  time  is  taken,  and  much 
suffering  felt,  but  neither  of  these  is  to  be  considered 
as  an  absolutely  necessary  part  of  it. 

Yet  there  are  many  persons  whose  conversion  is  a 
long  and  severe  struggle,  during  which  they  alternate 
week  after  week,  and  month  after  month,  between 
hope  and  fear,  who,  were  it  not  for  perplexing  their 
minds  with  a  wrong  notion  of  what  they  are  to  do  and 
to  be  done  with,  might  go  up  the  mountain  almost 
without  going  through  the  valley.  Such  instances 
have  occurred  among  the  most  eminent  Christians. 
It  is  known  that  John  Bunyan  went  through  awful 
terrors,  as  a  consequence  of  a  long-continued  exer 
cise  of  mind,  before  he  found  religious  peace ;  and 
his  experiences  are  embalmed  in  some  of  the 
best  writing  in  the  English  language.  But  it  is  our 
impression  that  the  conversion  of  Bunyan  might  just 
as  well  have  been  a  work  of  days  as  of  months. 
John  Wesley  also  went  well-nigh  three  years  before 
he  found  what  he  sought.  This  was  a  period  of 
great  effort,  of  continued  urging  up  to  duty,  of  watch 
fulness  and  carefulness,  involving  almost  unutterable 
trouble  of  mind.  He  finally  went  among  the  Mora- 


176  SUDDEN   CONVERSION. 

vians  and  there  reached  those  ^iews  which  finally 
gave  him  quiet  in  Jesus  Christ. 

There  are  not  only  single  instances  like  these,  but 
multitudes  of  others — of  persons  who  have  for  years 
been  bound,  as  it  were,  by  some  invisible  cord,  which 
has  kept  them  in  this  bondage.  The  difficulty  in 
many  cases  results  from  an  erroneous  apprehension 
of  what  is  to  be  taken  as  evidence  of  conversion. 
Men  make  a  common  mistake  between  what  is  a  reli 
gious  life,  and  certain  expected  fruits  of  a  religious 
life,  and  confound  the  two  things. 

Now,  to  be  a  Christian  is  to  obey  Christ,  no  matter 
how  you  feel;  but  many  persons  think  that  after  this 
obedience  is  rendered,  there  Avill  be  plunged  into 
their  souls  what  is  called  a  Christian  experience ;  and 
that  this  experience,  coming  afterwards,  is  piety. 
They  therefore  attempt  to  conform  to  the  love  of 
Christ,  and  then  wait  for  a  projected  or  interjected 
experience  which  is  supposed  to  be  a  religious  state. 
It  is  no  doubt  better  to  have  the  feeling  that  follows, 

o  > 

than  to  be  without  it ;  but  the  feeling  itself  is  not  to 
be  taken  for  that  of  which  it  is  simply  the  fruit,  and 
if  there  is  no  feeling,  it  is  not  to  be  taken  as  evidence 
that  there  is  no  real  religious  life. 

When  a  man  sits  down  to  a  piano,  reading  his  sheet 
of  music  before  him,  and  touching  the  keys  that  cor 
respond  to  the  notes  that  he  reads,  it  is  certainly  bet 
ter  to  be  able  to  hear  the  sounds  that  follow.  But 
Beethoven — one  of  the  saddest  instances  in  history 
of  human  greatness  and  suffering — becoming  deaf  in 
the  latter  part  of  his  life,  used  to  sit  down  to  the 
harpsichord,  and  play  tunes  of  which  he  heard  not  a 


SUDDEN   CONVERSION.  '   177 

single  note.  Even  though  his  instrument  fell  into  all 
manner  of  jangling  discords,  by  becoming  long  out 
of  tune,  yet  he  still  played  upon  it  all  those  grand, 
swelling  harmonies  which  were  tumultuous  in  his 
soul.  S[ow  if  Beethoven  had  waited  till  his  ear  could 
have  become  conscious  of  the  playing,  he  would  not 
have  played  at  all.  And  it  is  the  same  with  persons 
who  try  to  live  a  religious  life.  There  are  two  things 
which  they  must  avoid  confounding.  They  should 
mark  the  difference  between  following  Christ,  and 
the  sensations  which  come  in  consequence  of  fol 
lowing  him.  If  a  person  trying  to  come  into  the 
discipleship  of  Christ,  expects  to  do  so  by  sitting 
down  and  waiting  for  a  certain  preconceived  state  of 
mind  to  come  to  him,  as  he  might  wait  for  a  pair  of 
wings  to  sprout  out  of  his  shoulders,  he  must  not  be. 
surprised  if  he  is  disappointed.  But  many  earnest- 
minded  persons — who  are  near  the  kingdom  of  hea 
ven,  and  desire  to  enter  it — hinder  themselves  by 
just  such  difficulties.  They  deny  to  their  own  minds 
the  evidence  of  their  own  conversion,  simply  because 
they  do  not  experience  the  feelings  which  other  per 
sons  are  known  to  have  experienced.  They  are 
nearer  than  they  think  to  their  Father's  house,  yet 
not  believing  that  they  are  near,  they  do  not  go  in. 
Being  so  close  to  the  gate  that  if  they  were  closer 
they  must  certainly  enter,  they  yet  sit  down  and  tarry 
without — mourning  all  the  while  that  they  cannot  see 
their  Father's  face.  Such  a  mistake  is  one  of  the 
saddest  that  can  happen  a  man's  life,  and  should  be 
guarded  against  by  more  careful  discrimination  and 
better  teaching. 

8* 


"TOTAL    DEPEAVITY." 

• 

OUR  attention  lias  been  called  to  some  remarks  in 
The  New  York  Examiner,  a  Baptist  religious  jour 
nal,  in  which  we  are  called  to  account  for  certain 
words  said  to  have  been  uttered  by  us  in  a  recent 
lecture  in  Boston,  and  also  for  giving  the  lecture  at 
all  in  the  "  Fraternity  Course." 

Although  several  other  religious  journals,  as  I  am 
informed,  have  commented  upon  the  same  topics,  I 
select  The  Examinees  editorial  for  reply,  for  two  rea 
sons  : — first,  because  I  have  not  seen  the  others;  and 
secondly  and  especially,  because  its  tone  is  in  the 
main  kind.  And  we  desire  to  say,  that  if  all  papers 
were  as  fair  and  frank  as  The  Examiner,  there  would 
be  more  pleasure  in  the  public  interchange  of  views 
than  is  usually  the  case.  And  we  beg  the  editors  to 
understand  the  earnestness  of  our  reply  as  applying 
more  to  the  subject  than  to  them. 

u  Mr.  Beecher  is  not  to  be  held  accountable  for  a  newspaper  report 
of  his  words — unless,  having  knowledge  that  certain  words  are  publicly 
attributed  to  him,  he  acquiesces  in  the  report.  The  Boston  Journal 
quoted  him  as  saying  to  the  Fraternity,  that  'every  selfish  A:an 
believes  in  total  depravity,'  and  added,  that  the  remark  was  loudly 
cheered.  Now,  every  man  who  has  discretion  enough  to  speak  in 
public  at  all,  is  bound  to  consider,  not  only  whether  a  given  sentiment 
is  true,  but  whether  it  is  true  in  the  sense  in  which  it  will  inevitably 
be  understood  by  his  audience.  There  are  objections  to  the  phrase 
'  total  depravity.'  In  the  sense  which  would,  perhaps,  be  most  obvi- 
178 


"TOTAL  DEPRAVITY/'  179 

ous  to  ordinary  minds;  in  that  sense,  certainly,  which  Unitarians 
have  diligently  labored  to  associate  with  the  words,  they  convey  a 
falsehood.  There  is  no  wrong  in  discountenancing  their  use,  for  the 
purpose  of  substituting  a  phraseology  less  liable  to  misrepresentation. 
But  that  is  a  distinction  which  not  one  in  a  hundred  of  those  who 
applauded  Mr.  Beecher  would  ever  think  of  making.  If  he  did  say 
what  is  attributed  to  him,  he  must  have  been  understood  as  denying 
and  vilifying  that  docrrine  of  human  nature,  without  which  there  can 
be  no  logical  or  reasonable  necessity  for  a  supernatural  redemption. 
If  he  has  been  falsely  reported,  we  should  be  happy  to  know  it." 

We  admit  in  many  cases  that  a  man  is  to  be  con 
sidered  as  accepting  words  attributed  to  him  if,  when 
widely  published,  and  brought  to  his  notice,  he  per 
mits  them  to  stand  iincontradicted.  But  it  is  plain 
that  this  must  not  be  formed  into  a  rule,  and  that 
much  must  be  left  to  the  discretion  of  the  persons 
concerned. 

If  there  are  a  thousand  little  things  trumped  up 
for  the  sake  of  provoking  an  answer;  if  men  lie  in 
wait,  and  watch  how  they  may  catch  a  speaker,  strew 
ing  words  and  speeches  along  the  way  of  controversy, 
as  corn  is  strewn  toward  traps — is  a  man  to  run  into 
the  snare  ? 

Life  would  be  a  perpetual  flea-hunt,  if  one  were 
obliged  to  run  down  all  the  innuendoes,  the  invera 
cities,  the  insinuations,  and  the  suspicions  which  the 
style  of  modern  honor  permits  many  religious  papers 
to  indulge  in. 

But,  even  where  there  is  no  unkindness  meant,  and 
when  no  meanness  employs  religion  as  a  cloak,  and 
even  where  words  or  opinions  are  attributed  to  a  man 
which  have  some  importance,  it  is  a  serious  question 
whether  he  is  always  obliged  to  contradict,  and  whe- 


180 

• 

tlier  he  may  not  be  allowed  to  employ  his  own  dis 
cretion  in  denying  some  without  implying  any 
responsibility  for  all  which  he  does  not  choose  to 
deny. 

Since  wre  have  been  called  before  the  public,  we 
must  be  allowed  to  say,  frankly,  ^iat  it  would  be 
utterly  impossible  for  us  to  look  after  all  the  errone 
ous  reports  and  the  inaccurate  statements  which  are 
continually  made  in  our  behalf.  Hundreds  of  reports 
made  for  "  substance  of  doctrine  "  by  reporters  not 
versed  in  religious  literature,  of  sermons  reported  by 
letter-writers,  and  not  a  few  more  formal  collections 
of  sayings,  and  descriptions  of  things  done  or  said, 
are  sent  abroad.  Is  a  man  obliged  to  put  everything 
right  in  all  these  ?  Is  he  to  be  held  responsible  for 
sentiments  or  expressions  sent  all  over  the  land  by 
letter-writers,  unless  he  every  week  comes  before  the 
public  with  formal  disclaimer  and  reiterated  expla 
nation?  If  we  did  so,  then,  next,  the  very  papers 
which  require  it  would  be  the  first  to  blame  us  for 
conceit  in  keeping  before  the  public  endless  personal 
explanations ! 

But  there  is  another  side  to  this  question.  Have 
editors,  religious  and  honorable  men,  a  right  to  aid 
in  the  circulation  of  uncorrected  statements,  and 
hastily  reported  addresses,  when  they  above  all  men 
know  how  seldom  rapid  speakers  are  correctly 
reported,  and  when,  moreover,  they  have  the  means 
of  inquiring  at  head-quarters  as  to  the  accuracy  of 
any  report  ?  How  long  would  it  take  to  cut  out  a 
paragraph,  inclose  it  to  the  person  represented  as 
uttering  it,  and  say,  "Is  this  correct?" — "Do  you 


"  TOTAL    DEPKAVITY."  181 

• 

hold  yourself  responsible  for  this?"  If  it  is  not 
worth  this  trouble,  then  it  is  not  worth  inserting  in 
the  paper.  But  again  and  again,  the  most  serious 
misstatements  have  been  put  in  leading  religious 
newspapers,  who^e  editors  almost  passed  my  door 
daily  in  going  to  their  office.  But,  while  they  recon 
ciled  it  to  their  honor  to  give  injurious  reports  a  very 
wide  currency,  they  did  not  deem  it  their  duty  to 
take  the  least  pains  to  ascertain  the  truth  of  the 
statements ! 

But  we  have  become  so  used  to  seeing  misstate 
ments  and  misconceptions  that  we  scarcely  lift  our 
eyebrows  any  more  at  the  most  astounding  things. 
Indeed  we  kill  them  by  silence ;  having  found  that 
they  thrive  more  vigorously  by  the  notice  of  a  denial. 
There  was  a  story  started  some  years  ago  that  we 
began  a  sermon  by  the  startling  impropriety  of  the 
sentence,  "  It  is  damned  hot."  We  took  the  pains 
to  give  this  the  most  unequivocal  contradiction, 
declaring  it  to  be  a  lie  out  of  the  whole  cloth,  with 
out  the  vestige  or  shadow  of  foundation  of  any  kind 
whatsoever.  But,  since  this  denial,,  the  story  not  only 
goes  a  good  deal  better  than  before,  but  more  and 
more  persons  are,  every  month,  reported  to  me  as 
declaring  on  their  personal  veracity,  that  they  were 
present  and  heard  the  speech.  Of  course,  such  per 
sons  do  all,  without  exception,  tell  a  willful  false 
hood  ;  but  we  dare  not  say  so  publicly,  for  fear  that 
they  will  fall  into  spasms  of  affidavits,  and  convert 
their  guilt  into  permanent  form,  pasj;  all  repentance. 

Now  we  beg  to  have  it  understood,  hereafter,  that 
all  reports  which  represent  us  as  saying  what  we 


182  "  TOTAL    DEPRAVITY.'' 

* 

ought  not  to  have  said,  are  undoubtedly  erroneous ! 
Whereas  if  the  thing  reported  is  good,  wise,  safe, 
and  eminently  proper,  let  it  be  taken  for  granted 
that  we  said  it !  With  this  general  rule  we  shall  be 
content.  *% 

We  now  proceed  to  examine  the  allegation  that  we 
employed  the  term  Total  Depravity  in  a  manner 
which  produced  upon  the  audience  the  effect  of  a 
fling  at  the  doctrine  of  man's  sinfulness  before  God. 

1.  Even  if  the  term  Total  Depravity  were  one 
deserving  of  respect,  the  use  made  of  it  by  us,  on  the 
occcasion  referred  to,  could  be  tortured  into  an 
offence  only  by  the  most  unreasonable  theological 
jealousy.  And  those  who  heard  the  lecture  do  not 
seem  to  have  felt  any  impropriety.  It  was  the  report 
of  it,  published  the  next  day  in  the  newspapers,  and 
read  in  the  study  or  editorial  office,  that  excited  so 
much  anxiety. 

We  were  illustrating  the  fact  that  a  powerful  feel 
ing  in  action  tended  to  produce  the  same  feeling  in 
other  minds.  We  instanced  the  selfish  man  whose 
selfish  feelings  awakened  like  tendencies  all  around 
him,  so  that  he  roused  up  and  surrounded  himself 
with  men's  worst  traits.  Such  a  man  is  very  apt  to 
inveigh  against  his  fellow-men.  They  seem  to  him 
exceedingly  wicked.  To  the  selfish  man  all  men 
seem  desperately  and  only  selfish.  'And  here  it  was 
that  we  said  that  a  selfish  man  always  believes  in 
Total  Depravity.  Though  he  believes  nothing  else, 
he  is  always  a  fir*n  believer  in  human  wickedness. 

Now  we  really  think  that  one  must  be  extremely 
anxious  to  be  offended  to  find  occasion  of  offence  in 


"  TOTAL    DEPRAVITY."  183 

• 

tliis  remark.  And  if  the  gentlemen  who  watch 
against  the  many-headed  serpent  of  heresy  had 
heard  the  context  with  the  remark,  they  would  have 
been  saved  from  the  assertion  that  it  was  cheered  as 
a  fling  at  the  ortljpdox  view  of  man's  sinfulness.  It 
was  the  whole  hi  at  ft  selfish  man's  experience  that 
drew  applause — not  any  supposed  subtile  intimation 
of  a  doctrinal  laxity  on  our  part. 

2.  But  although  we  did  not  employ  the  phrase 
Total  Depravity  in  any  opprobrious  sense,  at  the 
time  mentioned,  we  do  not  hesitate  to  say  now,  that 
we  regard  it  as  one  of  the  most  unfortunate  and  mis 
leading  terms  that  ever  afflicted  theology. 

It  answers  no  purpose  of  definition  or  of  descrip 
tion.  It  does  not  convey  the  sense  in  which  the  great 
majority  of  churches  hold  the  doctrine  of  man's  sin- 
fulness.  Instead  of  explaining  anything,  it  needs 
explanation  itself.  Every  minister  who  employs  the 
term  usually  begins  his  sermon  by  saying  that  he 
does  not  mean  the  very  thing  which  the  words  do 
mean.  For,  Total  signifies  a  degree  beyond  which 
there  can  be  no  more.  A  total  loss  is  one  which  can 
not  be  increased ;  a  total  bankruptcy  is  one  which 
could  not  be  more  complete ;  a  total  destruction 
is  one  which  leaves  nothing  more  to  be  destroyed. 
Men  have  a  right  to  suppose  that  Total  Depravity 
signifies  a  depravity  beyond  which  there  could  be  no 
more — nothing  worse.  This  is  the  popular  under 
standing  of  the  term.  The  people  go  with  the  lan 
guage,  and  not  with  theologians.  But  this  is  not  the 
theological  meaning  of  the  word.  It  is  taught  that 
universal  man  is  depraved ;  and  not  that  each  man 


184:  "TOTAL   DEPRAVITY/' 

is  totally  depraved.  No  man  who  uses  the  phrase 
believes  men  to  be  totally  wicked—*,  e.,  so  wicked 
that  they  cannot  be  more  wicked.  If  they  can  be 
more  wicked,  then  they  were  not  totally  wicked 
before.  And,  just  as  The  E^miner  does,  so 
do  all  sensible  men.  They  do  not  use  the  term. 
They  regard  it  as  infelicitous.  And  yet,  when  any 
one  handles  it  roughly  they  are  full  of  anxiety  for 
the  truth ! 

This  word  is  an  interloper.  It  is  not  to  be  found 
in  the  Scriptures.  We  do  not  believe  that  it  is  even 
to  be  found  in  the  Catechisms  and  Confessions  of 
Faith  of  Protestant  or  Catholic  Christendom. 

We  do  not  feel  called  upon  to  give  the  mischievous 

phrase  any  respect.     We  do  not  believe  in  it,  nor  in 

the  thing  which  it  obviously  signifies.     It  is  an  un- 

scriptural,  monstrous,  and  unredeemable  lie. 

I  •    3.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  do  believe,  with  con- 

|  tinual  sorrow  of  heart  and  daily  overflowing  evidence, 

in  the  deep  sinfulness  of  universal  man.     And  we 

I  believe  in  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin.     We  do 

I    not  believe  that  any  man  is  born  who  is  sinless,  or 

^  who    becomes    perfectly   sinless    until    death.     We 

believe  that  there  is  not  one  faculty  of  the  human 

soul  that  does  not  work  evil,  and  so  repeatedly,  that, 

the  whole   human  character  is    sinful   before  God. 

We  believe  man's  sinfulness  to  be  such  that  every 

man  that  ever  lived  needed  God's  forbearance  and 

free  forgiveness.     We  believe  that  no  man  lives  who 

does  not  need  to  repent  of  sin,  to  turn  from  it ;  and 

we  believe  that  turning  from  sin  is  a  work  so  deep, 

and  touches  so  closely  the  very  springs  of  being,  that 


"  TOTAL    DEPRAVITY."  185 

no  man  will  ever  change  except  by  the  help  of  God. 
And  we  believe  that  such  help  is  the  direct  and  per 
sonal  out-reaching  of  God's  Spirit  upon  the  human 
soul ;  and  when,  by  such  divine  help,  men  begin  to 
live  a  spiritual  life^we  believe  the  change  to  have 
been  so  great  that  n  is  fitly  called  a  beginning  of  life 
over  again,  a  new  creation,  a  new  birth. 

If  there  is  one- tiling  that  we  believe  above  all 
others,  upon  proof  from  consciousness  and  proof  from 
observation  and  experience,  it  is  the  sinfulness  of 
man.  Nor  do  we  believe  that  any  man  ever  doubted 
our  belief  who  sat  for  two  months  under  our  preach 
ing.  Nothing  strikes  us  as  so  peculiarly  absurd  as  a 
charge  or  fear  that  we  do  not  adequately  believe  in 
men's  sinfulness.  The  steady  bearing  of  our  preach 
ing  on  this  subject  is  such  as  to  plough  up  soil  and  ^1 
subsoil,  and  to  convict  and  to  convince  men  of  their  / 
need  of  Christ's  redemption. 

But  our  belief  of  this  sad  truth  is  purely  practical. 
We  have  no  sympathy  with  those  theologians  who  use 
Time  as  a  grand  alley,  and  roll  back  their  speculations 
six  thousand  years,  knocking  down  and  setting  up 
the  race,  in  the  various  chances  of  this  gigantic  theo- 
logic  game — what  is  the  origin  and  nature  of  sin? 
Poor  Adam!  To  have  lost  Paradise  was  enough. 
But  to  be  a  shadow  endlessly  pursued  through  all 
time  by  furious  and  fighting  theologies — this  is  a 
punishment  never  threatened.  Or,  was  the  flaming 
sword  of  the  angel  a  mere  type  and  symbol  of  theo 
logical  zeal,  standing  between  men  and  Paradise  for 
evermore!  ("We  take  men* as  we  find  them.  We  do 
not  go  back  to  Adam  or  the  fall  to  find  materials  for 


186  "  TOTAL    DEPRAVITY." 

theories  and  philosophies.  There  is  the  human  heart 
right  before  my  eyes,  every  day  throbbing,  throb 
bing,  throbbing!  Sin  is  not  a  speculation,  but  a 
reality.  It  is  not  an  idea,  a  speculative  truth,  but  an 
awful  fact,  that  darkens  life,  ai^}  weighs  down  the 
human  heart  with  continual  mi^hiefs.  Its  nature 

\'will  never  be  found  in  the  Past.   JLt^nv.st  be  sought 
in  the  Present.  **^ 


WORKING    WITH    ERKORISTS. 

WE  now  print  the  entire  first  part  of  the  article 
from  the  New  York  Examiner  ^  the  last  part  of  which 
it  was  more  convenient  to  dispose  of  first : 

THE  'FRATERNITY'  AND  MR.  BEECHER. 

"  In  the  congregation  administered  to  by  Theodore  Parker,  at  the 
Music  Hall  in  Boston,  known  as  the  '  Twenty-eighth  Congregational 
Society,'  there  is  a  literary  association  styled  the  '  Fraternity.' 
Said  Fraternity  has  got  up  a  series  of  '  Fraternity  Lectures,'  an 
avowed  object  of  which,  if  a  newspaper  announcement  may  be  cre 
dited,  was  to  giro  to  the  '  ideas '  of  Mr.  Parker  a  freer  scope  than 
the  Lyceum  platform  allows.  But  whether  that  was  the  purpose  or 
not,  it  is  manifest  that  the  effect  would  be,  so  far  as  any  impression 
was  made  on  the  public,  to  give  increased  popularity  to  the  man  and 
his  '  church.'  If  the  lectures  prove,  as  has  been  claimed,  '  the 
most  successful  course  of  the  season,'  they  will  reflect  a  certain  lus 
tre  upon  the  '  Twenty-eighth  Congregational  Society,'  and  upon  the 
man  whose  infidelity  is  its  pervading  spirit.  Such  an  effect,  we  should 
suppose,  would  be  deprecated — at  least,  would  not  be  even  construc 
tively  aided — by  a  sincere  friend  of  evangelical  religion.  But  the  pas 
tor  of  the  Plymouth  church  in  Brooklyn  has  appeared  upon  Mr.  Par 
ker's  platform,  to  lend  to  it  his  popularity.  Mr.  Beecher  has  asserted 
his  right  to  do  in  all  things  what  is  right  in  his  own  eyes,  and  we  are 
not  disposed,  even  if  we  were  able,  to  abridge  his  liberty.  But  it  is 
utterly  incomprehensible  by  us,  how  he  reconciles  with  his  love  for 
the  Gospel  such  open  aid  and  comfort  to  its  bitterest  enemies.  To 
appear  with  Mr.  Parker,  contemporaneously  or  successively,  upon  a 
platform  which  represents  neither  him  nor  his  'ideas,'  is  one  thin"1; 
to  assist  in  giving  eclat  to  an  infidel  enterprise  is  a  very  different  thing 
— and  that  is  what  every  Fraternity  lecturer,  and  every  purchaser  of 

a  Fraternity  ticket  has  done." 

1ST 


188  WORKING    WITH    ERROKISTS. 

Of  course  we  believe  in  newspapers,  and  in  edi 
tors.  Yet,  even  an  editor  may  be  mistaken  and  a 
newspaper  may  fall  into  misstatements !  And  the 
Examiner  has  in  this  instance  been  misled  by  a  too 
confiding  trust  in  religious  or  secular  newspapers. 

It  is  true  that  the  Fraternity  Course  was  under  the 
supervision  of  members  of  the  Twenty-eighth  Con 
gregational  Society  of  Boston,  but  it  is  not  true  that 
it  was  got  up  for  the  sake  of  giving  Mr.  Parker's 
"  <  ideas '  a  freer  scope  than  the  Lyceum  platform 
allows  "__if  by  ideas,  the  Examiner  means  Mr.  Par 
ker's  characteristic  religious  views.  On  the  contrary, 
it  is  known  that  Mr.  Parker  was  preparing  four  his 
torical  discourses,  on  Washington,  John  Adams,  Jef 
ferson,  and  (we  Jr^eve)  Franklin.  But  such  was  the 
ill  odor  in  Boston  of  Mr.  Parker's  religious  notions 
that  a  studious  care  had  been  exercised  to  keep  him 
from  Boston  lecture  platforms,  though  history,  art,  or 
belles-lettres  were  his  theme,  lest  the  influence  of  any 
thing  that  was  good  in  him  should  "  reflect  a  lustre  " 
upon  that  part  of  him  which  religious  men  so  much 
deprecate. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  attempt  to  suppress  a 
man,  and  to  silence  his  speech,  on  the  great  topics 
which  are  common  to  men  of  all  religious  views, 
must  produce,  not  only  among  his  personal  blends, 
but  among  honorable  men  who  utterly  differ  from 
him  in  religion,  a  determination  that  he  shall  ha\  e  a 
chance  to  speak,  at  least ;  and  then,  if  people  do  not 
wish  to  hear  an  "  infidel,"  on  secular  topics,  of  course 
they  can  stay  at  home.  In  other  respects,  this  Lec 
ture  Course  was  like  ordinary  courses.  It  was  not 


WORKING   WITH   EKEORISTS.  189 

neld  in  Mr.  Parker's  church,  nor  on  his  platform — 
though  it  would  have  been  no  worse  if  it  had  been — 
but  in  the  Tremont  Temple — a  Baptist  worshipping- 
place,  where  the  Mercantile  Library  Association  and 
other  principal  lecture  courses  are  held.  The  only  res 
pect  in  which  it  was  peculiar  was,  that  Theodore  Par 
ker  was  to  deliver  four  lectures  in  the  course,  upon 
Washington,  John  Adams,  Jefferson,  and  Benjamin 
Franklin.  Besides  him,  the  other  lecturers,  six  or 
eight  in  number,  were  those  gentlemen  whose  names 
dignify  and  enrich  the  rol1  of  all  principal  lecture- 
courses  in  the  Union. 

The  funds,  over  and  above  the  expenses,  if  there 
should  be  any,  were  not  designed  to  support  either 
Mr.  Parker  or  the  Twenty-eighth  Congregational 
society,  of  which  he  is  the  minister.  They  were  to 
be  employed  in  charitable  purposes,  and  for  the  most 
part  among  the  poor  and  unfriended  ! 

And  if  the  young  men  of  the  Twenty-eighth  Con 
gregational  Society  of  Boston  judged  that  we  were 
one  who  would  be  glad  to  cooperate  with  Theodore 
Parker,  in  all  honorable  ways  which  did  not  imply 
approbation  of  his  theology,  for  objects  common  to 
all  good  men ;  and  if  they  judged  that  we  should  be 
forward  to  aid  all  measures,  among  all  sects,  which 
have  for  their  object  the  improvement  of  the  young, 
and  the  relief  of  the  suffering,  they  judged  rightly. 
We  believe  in  the  right  of  free  speech  even  of  men 
whose  opinions,  when  delivered,  we  do  not  believe  ! 

Did  the  Examiner  think  that  the  young  gentlemen 
of  Mr.  Parker's  society  got  up  a  course  of  popular 
lectures  for  the  sake  of  covertly  propagating  infidel- 


190  WORKING   WITH   EKROKISTS. 

ity,  and  invited  me,  without  disclosing  the  inward 
scheme,  to  garnish  the  course,  and  to  lend  my  influ 
ence,  blindfolded,  to  such  an  aim  ?  Or,  did  it  never 
enter  the  head  of  the  Examiner  that  a  man  might 
associate  with  men  from  whose  theological  tenets  he 
utterly  dissented,  because  he  sympathized  with  the 
special  benevolence  which  they  would  perform  ? 
because  he  had  an  ethical  sympathy  with  them 'in 
spite  of  their  theology  ?  because  he  believed  that  a 
good  man  ought  always  to  seek  occasions  of  work 
ing  with  men,  rather  than  of  working  away  from 
them  ? 

We  should  be  sorry  to  suppose  ourselves  singular 
in  this  matter.  Are  we  to  take  the  ground  that 
no  orthodox  man  shall  encourage  the  young  to  self- 
improvement  and  to  works  of  benevolence,  unless 
they  are  sound  in  the  faith  ?  Because  Mr.  Parker 
teaches  a  wrong  theology  to  the  young  men  of  his 
charge,  are  we  to  hold  off  and  refuse  to  help  them 
when  they  endeavor  to  live  a  great  deal  better  than 
we  should  suppose  their  theology  would  incline  them 
to  ?  But  this  is  the  very  case  in  hand.  The  young 
men  in  Mr.  Parker's  society  undertook  to  do  good  by 
a  course  of  general  lectures ;  we  lectured  in  that 
course ;  good  papers  are  full  of  grief ;  and  the 
Examiner  regards  it  as  "  utterly  incomprehensible." 
We  must  be  still  more  incomprehensible  then,  when 
we  say,  that  though  we  would  earnestly  desire  men 
to  believe  aright  in  religion,  yet,  if  they  will  not, 
then  we  hope  that  their  life  will  be  better  than  their 
creed.  And,  if  we  see  men  of  a  heretical  turn  of  mind 
practising  Gospel  virtues  and  charities,  we  shall  cer- 


WORKING   WITH   EKKOEISTS.  191 

tainly  encourage  and  help  them.  For  men  do  not 
derive  the  right  to  do  good  from  the  Thirty-nine 
Articles ;  nor  need  they  go  to  the  Westminster  Con 
fession  for  liberty  to  recover  the  intemperate,  set  free 
the  bound,  feed  the  hungry,  clothe  the  naked,  educate 
the  ignorant,  and  give  sleigh-rides  to  the  beggars' 
children  that  never  before  laughed  and  cuddled  under 
a  buffalo  robe !  It  seems  to  us  a  great  deal  better 
business  for  a  Christian  man  to  encourage  his  fellows 
in  well-doing  than  to  punish  them  for  wrong  thinking  ! 

But  the  Examiner  thinks  that  the  success  of  this 
course  of  lectures  will  "  reflect  a  certain  lustre  upon 
the  Twenty-eighth  Congregational  Society,  and  upon 
the  man  whose  infidelity  is  its  pervading  spirit." 
Well,  what  then  ?  Are  we  to  punish  an  infidel  for 
his  infidelity  by  refusing  him  all  credit  for  personal 
goodness,  for  active  benevolence,  for  practical 
humanity  ? 

If  anybody  does  right  he  ought  to  be  applauded. 
If  Mr.  Parker  does  well  he  deserves  the  credit  for 
well-doing.  If  the  young  men  of  his  charge  do  well, 
they  deserve  all  the  "  lustre  "  of  it.  Or  shall  we  take 
ground  that  no  man  who  is  not  of  sound  orthodox 
faith  is  to  have  any  "  lustre  "  for  practical  virtue  ? 
Must  nobody  be  counted  ethically  right  until  he  is 
theologically  sound  ?  Such  a  doctrine  would  bo 
monstrous!  Every  just  and  generous  man  in  the 
community  ought  to  rejoice  in  the  good  conduct  of 
every  man,  without  regard  to  his  speculative  views 
or  theological  affinities ! 

If  a  man  institutes  a  temperance  movement,  must  I 
refuse  to  help  him  because,  being  perhaps,  a  Universal- 


192  WORKING   WITH   EEROEISTB. 

1st  minister,  his  zeal  and  fidelity  in  that  cause  would 
"  reflect  a  lustre  "  upon  him  and  his  sect?  If  a  man 
would  establish  and  endow  a  hospital,  must  I  refuse 
to  co-work  with  him  because,  being  a  Unitarian,  its 
success  would  reflect  a  certain  lustre  upon  that  faith  ? 

When,  in  the  pestilence  in  New  Orleans,  the  Sis 
ters  of  Charity  did  not  count  their  lives  dear  to  them, 
but  night  and  day,  fearless  of  death  and  defiant  of 
fatigue,  gave  their  utmost  being  to  the  care  of  the 
miserable  sick,  must  I,  a  Protestant,  refuse  admiration 
or  fellowship  for  fear  a  "  certain  lustre  "  would  shine 
upon  tho  Eoman  Catholic  Church  ? 

If  a  Jew  does  nobly,  he  deserves  the  lustre  which 
right-doing  ought  to  confer;  if  an  Atheist  or  an 
Infidel  live  virtuously  and  act  honorably,  he  should 
have  the  "  lustre  "  belonging  to  virtue  and  honor ! 

Does  the  Examiner  think  that  wre  do  not  care  for 
our  own  theologic  vie\vs?  We  care  a  good  deal. 
We  shall  yield  them  to  no  man's  dictation.  We  shall 
not  indorse  any  man's  theology  which  differs  from 
them.  We  have  enough  of  the  old  disciple  nature 
left  to  feel  very  desirous  that  folks  who  will  cast  out 
devils,  should  do  it  in  our  train,  and  as  we  do.  But 
if  they  will  not — why,  then,  we  will  help  them  to  do 
it  in  their  way!  ~No  w^ays  can  be  very  bad  that 
succeed  in  getting  rid  of  the  devil.  But,  if  we 
were  to  help  an  Episcopal  movement  for  general 
benevolence,  wrould  any  man  say  that  wre  indorsed 
high-church  notions?  If  we  were  affectionately 
and  urgently  invited  to  Princeton,  to  examine 
the  senior  class  in  theology  and  give  them  some 
tender  cautions  on  parting  from  Turretin  and  enter- 


WORKING   WITH   EKKORISTS.  193 

ing  the  life  of  realities,  would  anybody  be  so  cruel  as 
to  say  that  we  believed  in  high  Calvinism,  or  were 
indifferent  to  all  woes  of  conscience  produced  by 
that  energetic  system?  Bishop  Hughes  will  never 
invite  us  to  speak  in  his  new  cathedral,  and  wTe  not 
promptly  accept  it.  But  we  affectionately  appeal  to 
the  Examiner  whether,  on  such  an  interesting  occur 
rence,  he  would  think  it  his  duty  to  pierce  us  with 
such  remarks  as  are  now  puncturing  our  peace  from 
his  words  ? 

If  I  had  gone  to  Boston  to  buy  carpets  or  books ;  or 
if  I  had  gone  to  Boston  to  help  the  Republican  cause, 
if  I  had  gone  on  any  of  those  secular  errands,  in  which 
all  men  of  every  shade  of  belief  are  wont  to  unite  with 
out  criticism,  no  question  would  have  been  raised.  In 
selfish  and  worldly  interests  men  are  allowed  cooper 
ation  for  common  ends.  But  if  I  divest  myself  of  all 
selfish  or  secular  aims,  and  rise  to  a  higher  plane  of 
benevolence,  and  seek  to  raise  the  fallen,  to  restore 
the  lost,  to  purify  the  vicious,  to  elevate  the  ignorant, 
and  to  cheer  the  poor  and  neglected,  Christian  minis 
ters  and  editors  will  not  let  me  cooperate  for  such 
divine  objects  with  every  man  who  will  sincerely 
work  for  them ;  but  I  must  pick  for  men  of  right 
philosophy,  for  men  right  in  all  theology !  Thus  we 
allow  selfishness  to  go  with  flowing  robes  and  a  loose 
girdle.  We  make  her  feet  light,  and  her  hands  nim 
ble.  But  upon  religion  we  put  iron  shoes  and  steel 
gloves.  We  burden  her  with  mail,  and  underneath 
it  all  we  draw  the  girt  of  conscience  to  the  last  hole. 
Then  she  goes  slowly  forth,  scarcely  able  to  walk  or 
to  breathe ! 

9 


194  WORKING    WITH    ERRORISTS. 

I  have  long  ago  been  convinced  that  it  was  better 
to  lo\Te  men,  than  to  hate  them ;  and  that  one  would 
be  more  likely  to  convince  them  of  wrong  belief  by 
showing  a  cordial  sympathy  with  their  welfare,  than 
by  nipping  and  pinching  them  with  logic.  And 
although  I  do  not  disdain,  but  honor  philosophy 
applied  to  religion,  I  think  that  the  world  just  now 
needs  the  Christian  Heart  more  than  anything  else. 
And,  even  if  the  only  and  greatest  interest  were  the 
propagation  of  right  theology,  I  am  confident  that 
right  speculative  views  will  grow  up  faster  and  firmer 
in  the  summer  of  true  Christian  loving,  than  in  the 
rigorous  winter  of  solid,  congealed  orthodoxy,  or  in 
the  blustering  March  of  controversy 

Does  anybody  inquire  why,  if  so  thinking,  we 
occasionally  give  such  sharp  articles  upon  the  great 
religious  newspapers,  the  Observer,  the  Intelligencer, 
and  the  like  ?  Oh  pray  do  not  think  it  for  any  ill- 
will  !  It  is  all  kindness !  "We  only  do  it  to  keep  our 
voice  in  practice.  "We  have  made  orthodoxy  a  study. 
And,  by  an  attentive  examination  of  the  Presbyterian, 
the  Observer,  the  Puritan  Recorder,  and  such  like 
unblemished  confessors,  we  have  learned  that  no  man 
is  himself  truly  sound  who  does  not  pitch  into  some 
body  for  being  unsound  in  the  faith ;  and  that  a  real 
modern  orthodox  man,  like  a  nervous  watch-dog,  must 
sit  on  the  door-stone  of  his  system,  and  bark  inces 
santly  at  everything  that  comes  in  sight  along  the 
highway.  And  when  there  is  nothing  to  bark  at, 
either  he  must  growl  and  gnaw  his  reserved  bones, 
or  bark  at  the  moon,  to  keep  up  the  sonorousness  of 
his  voice.  And  so,  for  fear  the  sweetness  of  our  temper 


WORKING    WITH    EKRORISTS.  195 

may  lead  men  to  think  that  we  have  no  theological 
zeal,  we  lift  up  an  objurgation  now  and  then — as 
much  as  to  say,  "  Here  we  are,  fierce  and  orthodox : 
ready  to  growl  when  we  cannot  bite !" 

But  the  Examiner  says:  "The  pastor  of  the  Ply 
mouth  church  in  Brooklyn  has  appeared  upon  Mr. 
Parker's  platform,  to  lend  it  his  popularity."  I 
neither  borrowed  nor  lent.  I  went  before  an  audience 
in  the  Tremont  Temple,  a  Baptist  meeting-house,  the 
place  for  the  chief  part  of  public  lectures,  to  give  my 
own  ideas,  and  to  exert  whatever  power  I  had  by  my 
thoughts  and  by  my  feelings  upon  such  audience  as 
pleased  to  come  together.  If  they  were  good  men 
they  needed  me  less:  if  they  were  bad,  they  needed 
me  more.  But  either  way,  I  was  responsible  for 
my  own  testimony,  and  for  nothing  more ;  and 
this  was  not  lent  to  Mr.  Parker,  but  to  the 
audience.  Yet,  whenever  Theodore  Parker  does 
what  is  right  and  noble,  if  it  were  possible  for  me 
to  lend  him  anything  I  would  do  it  gladly.  I  have 
nothing  to  lend,  however,  but  good  will,  and  that  I 
never  lend,  but  give,  free  as  God's  air ! 

But,  it  will  be  asked,  will  the  public  understand 
your  position,  and,  however  you  may  design  it,  will 
not  the  impression  go  abroad  either  that  you  sympa 
thize  with  infidel  views,  or  are  indifferent  to  them  ? 
No.  The  public  especially  will  not  misunderstand. 
There  is  formed  and  forming  a  moral  judgment  in 
the  intelligent  part  of  the  community,  that  popular 
Christianity  needs  more  love  in  it.  Men  at  large  will 
be  a  great  deal  more  apt  to  say  that  I  have  done  a 
more  exemplary  Christian  act,  in  daring  to  avow  an 


196  WORKING    WITH    EKEORIST8. 

ethical  sympathy  with.  Theodore  Parker,  between 
whom  and  myself  there  exists  an  irreconcilable  the 
ological  difference,  than  if  I  had  bombarded  him 
for  a  whole  year,  and  refused  to  touch  his  hand  ! 

What  a  pitiful  thing  it  is  to  see  men,  who  have  the 
chance  of  saying  what  they  believe,  who  do  say  it 
two  hundred  times  a  year,  who  write  it,  sing  it,  speak 
it,  and  fight  it ;  who,  by  all  their  social  affinities,  by 
all  their  life-work,  by  all  positive  and  most  solemn 
testimonies,  are  placed  beyond  misconception, — 
always  nervous  lest  they  should  sit  down  with  some 
body,  or  speak  with  somebody,  or  touch  somebody, 
and  so  lose  an  immaculate  reputation  for  soundness ! 
Therefore,  men  peep  out  from  their  systems  as  pri 
soners  in  jail  peep  out  of  iron-barred  windows,  but 
dare  not  come  out,  for  fear  some  sharp  sheriff  of  the 
Faith  should  arrest  them ! 

If  we  held  Theodore  Parker's  views,  we  should  not 
wait  to  have  it  inferred.  Men  would  hear  it  from 
our  lips,  and  hear  it  past  all  mistaking.  And  we 
are  not  going  at  our  time  of  life  to  begin  to  watch 
over  our  "  influence  /"  to  cut  and  trim  our  sentences 
lest  some  mousing  critic  should  pounce  upon  an  infe 
licity  and  draw  upon  us  a  suspicion.  We  have  never 
sought  influence,  and  we  never  shall  seek  it.  Any 
that  we  have  now,  came  to  us  because  we  went 
straight  forward,  doing  whatever  was  right,  and 
always  believing  that  a  loving  heart  was  a  better 
judge  of  what  was  right  than  a  cold  and  accurate 
head.  Neither  is  infallible.  Both  make  mistakes. 
But  the  errors  of  the  heart  dissolve  in  the  kindness 
of  men's  natures  as  snowflakes  dissolve  in  warm- 


WORKING    WITH    ERRORISTS.  197 

bosomed  lakes,  while  the  errors  of  cold  intellect 
pierce  and  stick  like  arrows.  If  I  cannot  make  my 
people  understand  my  belief,  in  fifty-two  Sabbaths 
of  the  year,  I  shall  not  mend  the  matter  by  refusing 
to  follow  the  generous  sympathies  of  my  heart. 

No.  The  common  people  will  not  misunderstand. 
Nor  will  practical  Christian  ministers.  They  may 
differ  from  my  judgment,  but  they  will  understand 
my  deed.  It  is  only  those  professed  defenders  of  the 
faith,  who,  having  erected  suspicion  into  a  Christian 
grace,  practise  slander  as  a  Christian  duty,  that  will 
be  liable  to  mistake.  And  it  makes  no  difference 
whether  such  men  understand  or  not.  These  men 
are  like  aspen-trees  growing  on  rocks.  In  conceit 
and  arrogance  they  are  hard  as  granite,  while  they 
tremble  all  over  like  aspen  leaves  with  perpetual 
fears  and  apprehensions  of  dismal  mischief  to  come  ! 

When  Theodore  Parker  appears  in  his  representa 
tive  character  as  a  theologian,  I  am  as  irreconcilably 
opposed  to  him  as  it  is  possible  to  be.  The  things 
that  are  dear  to  him,  are  cheerless  and  unspeakably 
solitary  and  mournful  to  me.  The  things  which  are 
the  very  centre  of  my  life,  the  inspiration  of  my  exis 
tence,  the  glory  of  my  thought  and  the  strength  of 
my  ministry,  are  to  him  but  very  little.  I  differ 
from  him  in  fact,  in  theory,  in  statement,  in  doctrine, 
in  system,  in  hope  and  expectation ;  living  or  dying, 
laboring  or  resting — in  theology,  we  are  separate,  and 
irreconcilable. 

Could  Theodore  Parker  worship  my  God  ? — Christ 
Jesus  is  his  name.  All  that  there  is  of  God  to  me  is 
bound  up  in  that  name.  A  dim  and  shadowy  efflu- 


198  WORKING    WITH   ERRORLSTS. 

ence  rises  from  Christ,  and  that  I  am  taught  to  call 
the  Father.  A  yet  more  tenuous  and  invisible 
film  of  thought  arises,  and  that  is  the  Holy  Spirit 
But  neither  are  to  me  aught  tangible,  restful,  acces 
sible. 

They  are  to  be  revealed  to  my  knowledge  here 
after,  but  now  only  to  my  faith.  But  Christ  stands 
my  manifest  God.  All  that  I  know  is  of  him,  and 
in  him.  I  put  my  soul  into  his  arms,  as,  when  I  was 
born,  my  father  put  me  into  my  mother's  arms.  I 
draw  all  my  life  from  him.  I  bear  him  in  my 
thoughts  hourly,  as  I  humbly  believe  that  he  also 
bears  me.  For  I  do  truly  believe  that  we  love  each 
other ! — I,  a  speck,  a  particle,  a  nothing,  only  a  mere 
beginning  of  something  that  is  gloriously  yet  to  be, 
when  the  warmth  of  God's  bosom  shall  have  been  a 
summer  for  my  growth ; — and  HE,  the  Wonderful 
Counsellor,  the  Mighty  God,  the  Everlasting  Father, 
the  Prince  of  Peace  ! 

And  this  Redeemer  of  the  world,  this  Saviour  of 
sinners,  I  accept,  not  only  as  my  guide,  my  friend, 
my  deliverer,  but  as  an  atoning  God,  who  bore  my 
sins  upon  the  cross,  and  delivered  me  from  their 
penalty.  And,  since  my  life  is  spared  to  me  by  him, 
I  give  to  him  that  life  again.  This  hope  of  Christ  is 
the  staif  of  my  ministry.  First,  highest,  and  in  mea 
sure  beyond  all  other  things,  I  preach  Jesus  Christ. 
And  all  other  topics  are  but  arrows,  shot  out  of  this 
Divine  bow.  And  this  has  been  so  for  twenty  years, 
eleven  of  which  I  have  labored  in  Brooklyn.  And 
yet  the  Examiner  is  pleased  to  reproach  me,  as  if, 
against  the  sweep  of  my  life,  and  the  current  and  tes- 


WORKING    WITH   ERRORISTS.  199 

timony  of  my  being,  I  had  gone  to  Boston  to  give 
"  e"clat  to  an  infidel  enterprise,"  and  only  because  I 
gladly  lielped  men  who  do  not  agree  with  me  in 
theology  to  do  deeds  of  mercy  in  which  all  good 
men  should  be  united  ! 

What  must  be  the  condition  of  the  public  mind, 
on  the  subject  of  Christian  charity,  when  the  simple 
cooperation  of  a  man,  on  a  ground  of  common  bene 
volence,  is  made  to  signify  more  than  his  whole  regu 
lar  life-work  ? 

The  disposition  to  find  some  common  ground  of 
kindness  and  benevolent  work,  with  those  from 
whom  we  are  known  to  differ,  will  be  a  real  preach 
ing  of  the  Gospel  to  tens  of  thousands  who  are 
unmoved  by  dogmas  or  doctrines.  It  is  Love  that 
the  world  wants.  When  Love  goes  abroad  in  the 
full  worth  of  its  nature,  and  endures,  and  suffers, 
without  reward  except  the  sweetness  of  suffering 
borne  for  another,  then  men  begin  to  see  what  is  the 
heart  and  spirit  of  Christ,  and  to  have  some  motions 
towards  faith  in  him ! 

If  tears  could  wash  away  from  Mr.  Parker's  eye? 
the  hindrances,  that  he  might  behold  Christ  as  1 
behold  and  adore  him,  I  would  shed  them  without 
reserve.  If  prayers  could  bring  to  him. this  vision  of 
glory,  beyond  sight  of  philosophy,  I  woidd  for  him 
besiege  the  audience-chamber  of  heaven  witli  an  end 
less  procession  of  prayers,  until  another  voice  sound 
ing  forth  from  another  light  brighter  than  the  noon 
day  sun,  should  cast  down  another  blinded  man,  to 
be  lifted  up  an  apostle  with  inspired  vision  ! 

But  since  I  may  not  hope  so  to  prevail,  I  at  least 


200  WORKING   WITH   ERROKISTS. 

will  cany  lihn  in  my  heart,  I  will  cordially  work  with 
him  when  I  can,  and  be  heartily  sorry  whenever  I 
cannot. 

While  we  yet  write,  word  comes  that  Mr.  Parker, 
broken  down  by  overlabor,  seeks  rest  and  restoration 
in  a  warmer  clime.  Should  these  lines  reach  his  eye, 
^et  him  know  that  one  heart  at  least  remembers  his 
fidelity  to  man,  in  great  public  exigencies  when  so 
many  swerved,  of  whom  we  had  a  right  to  expect 
better  things.  God  shield  him  from  the  ocean,  the 
storm,  the  pestilence ;  and  heal  him  of  lurking  dis 
ease.  And  there  shall  be  one  Christian  who  will 
daily  speak  his  name  to  the  heart  of  God  in  earnest 
prayer,  that  with  health  of  body  he  may  also  receive 
upon  his  soul  the  greatest  gift  of  God,— faith  in 
Jesus  Christ  as  the  Divine  Saviour  of  the  world. 


MISCHIEVOUS    SELF-EXAMINATION1. 

THE  term,  self-examination,  is  applied,  not  to  the 
consideration  of  one's  outward  conduct,  but  to  a  fe- 
view  and  analysis  of  one's  hidden  feelings;  to  the 
motives,  and  to  the  moral  complexion  of  one's  emo 
tions.  In  this  matter,  as  in  many  others,  those  who 
most  need  it  seldom  practise  it,  and  those  practise  it 
most  who  could  best  do  without  it.  Thus  if  a  man 
have  a  strong  practical  cast,  a  natural  sagacity  in 
matters  of  form  and  substance,  a  ready  knowledge  of 
men  and  things,  he  will  tend  to  cultivate  that  out 
ward  direction  of  his  mind ;  and  to  regard  introspec 
tion  as  unpractical.  This  opinion  is  confirmed  by  the 
few  paroxysmal  attempts  at  the  study  of  himself. 
Made  upon  impulse,  without  skill,  or  practice,  upon 
too  large  a  scale,  with  the  heat  of  new  zeal,  the  result 
is  confusion  and  disgust.  He  reverts  to  his  practical 
life,  and  always  speaks  of  himself  as  not  adapted  to 
metaphysical  meditation.  Yet,  this  man  especially 
needs  to  study  himself  \  because  he  is  by  his  nature  so 
strongly  drawn  away  toward  outward  and  material  life. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  reflective,  sensitive  mind, 
dwells  upon  its  own  states  too  much,  and  lives  so 
much  in  introspection,  as  to  have  but  a  slender  sym 
pathy  with  the  outward  world. 

A  special  form  of  this  last  mentioned  danger  is  fre 
quently  found  in  young  and  conscientious  Christians. 

9*  201 


202  MISCHIEVOUS    SELF-EXAMINATION. 

They  attempt  to  maintain  a  habitual  watch  over  their 
minds.  They  check  every  budding  feeling  till  they 
know  what  fruit  it  will  bear.  They  stop  every  swell 
ing  emotion  till  they  have  "examined"  it.  They 
treat  the  religious  feelings,  as  an  officer  would  a  per 
son  suspected  of  having  stolen  goods  about  his  person 
— stripping  oif  its  cloak,  and  scrutinizing  sharply, 
flie  mind,  thus  badgered,  is  like  a  steed  whom  you 
whip  with  one  hand  and  hold  in  with  the  other ;  it 
becomes  restless  and  chafed.  The  poor  victim  does 
not  know  "  how  he  does  feel."  He  wishes  he  knew 
his  own  motives.  He  will  be  heard  inquiring  much 
after  his  "  evidences."  "  How  can  a  man  tell  whether 
he  has  faith  or  not?"  "How  may  I  know  whether 
I  really  love  God  ?"  "  How  do  I  know  whether  all 
my  motives  in  seeking  religion  are  not  selfish  ?"  Such 
questions  will  identify  the  victims  of  narrow  self- 
examination. 

The  moment  a  feeling  becomes  an  object  of  atten 
tion,  it  ceases  to  be  a  feeling.  Emotions  change  to 
ideas.  The  real  process  of  what  is  called,  by  many, 
self-examination,  is  but  the  transmutation  of  an  emo 
tive  state  into  an  intellectual  state;  for  feeling 
perishes  where  analysis  begins.  They  burn  the  flower 
that  they  may  analyze  its  ashes,  and  then  are  discon 
tented  that,  raking  in  the  ashes,  they  find  neither 
root,  stem,  nor  flower. 

This  course  is  every  way  unnatural,  and  inflicts 
upon  the  mind  a  long  train  of  mischiefs.  There  can 
be  no  such  thing  as  a  current  in  the  mind,  a  free 
sweep,  a  generous  momentum,  where  every  state  of 
feeling  is  stopped  for  examination.  The  mind  becomes 


MISCHIEVOUS    SELF-EXAMINATION.  203 

restless.  It  begins  nervously  to  break  out  in  one  direc 
tion  or  another,  seeking  by  violent  reactions  that  natural 
liberty  which  has  been  denied  it.  If  the  causes  con 
tinue,  the  results  will  vary  according  to  the  peculiar 
temperament  and  structure  of  the  mind.  Some  will 
retract  in  disgust  from  all  attempts  at  religion,  except 
as  a  scheme  of  morals.  Others  will  grow  despondent, 
and  all  their  lifetime  be  subject  to  bondage.  Others 
still,  will  come  to  a  degree  of  morbid  sensitiveness, 
which  will  only  stop  short  of  superstition.  They  will 
have  a  thousand  questions  starting  up  ;  they  will  feel 
pangs  of  remorse  upon  the  slightest  occasion ;  they 
will  be  thrown  off  their  guard  by  a  text  suddenly 
presented,  by  the  remarks  of  clergymen  or  of  Christian 
friends,  and  brood  in  perpetual  disquiet  over  a  chaotic 
and  gloomy  experience. 

In  such  states,  every  effort  of  the  sufferer  being  a 
stimulus  upon  a  jaded  or  morbid  condition,  will 
aggravate  the  suffering  and  put  relief  yet  further  off. 

Such  mischiefs  are  not  imaginary.  Every  year  we 
meet  them  in  repeated  instances.  Some  five  within 
a  week,  have  come  to  our  notice. 


WHERE    CHRISTIANS    MEET. 

A  PRAYER-MEETING  is  a  place  for  social  religious 
life.  It  is  not  for  preaching,  nor  is  it  for  exhortation. 
It  is  a  place  WHERE  CHRISTIANS  MEET  to  instruct  and 
strengthen  one  another  by  a  free  and  familiar  develop 
ment  of  their  religious  experiences  and  emotions. 
It  is  an  altar — for  whose  fire  every  Christian  brings 
a  brand,  and  where  the  whole  pile  is  made  up  of  the 
added  fagots  of  many  enkindled  hearts. 

This  is  the  primary  idea  of  a  prayer-meeting.  It 
is  evident,  therefore,  that  the  first  step  toward  a 
wholesome  meeting  is  truthfulness.  Yet  it  is  this 
important  element  which  is  apt  to  be  most  often  lack 
ing.  It  is  thought  necessary,  even  by  advanced 
Christians,  to  assume  a  sense  of  awful  responsibility, 
to  put  on  an  air  of  profound  solemnity,  and  to  mani 
fest  an  eminently  devout  spirit.  But  these  feelings 
are  never  proper,  except  when  they  are  real.  They 
should  never  be  assumed.  They  should  never  be  put 
on  and  worn  as  a  kind  of  appropriate  dress,  becoming 
to  the  occasion.  Men  should  not  lay  aside  their 
naturalness  before  God,  any  more  than  before  men — 
and  even  less,  as  God  can  see  through  the  guise  when 
men  may  not.  They  should  not  pretend  to  be  what 
they  are  not,  any  more  in  a  prayer-meeting  with  their 
brethren,  than  alone  in  their  own  private  closet. 
Any  pretentious  mood,  or  any  forced  and  artificial 

5JQ4 


WHERE    CHRISTIANS    MEET.  205 

feeling,  will  always  do  harm,  for  it  will  overlay  the 
mind  as  straw  and  dry  leaves  overlay  the  soil,  so 
that  nothing  is  able  to  spring  up. 

No  man  should  utter  a  word  in  a  prayer-meeting 
which  is  not  spoken  in  sincerity.  It  is  a  greac  and 
grievous  sin  for  a  man  to  utter  prayers  to  God,  when 
his  heart  neither  suggests,  nor  enters  into,  the  peti 
tions.  It  is  a  piece  of  mockery  that  no  man  would 
endure,  much  less  God.  For  any  creature  to  bow 
before  his  Creator,  and  say  prayers,  whether  they  be 
long  or  short,  printed  or  unprinted,  which  do  not 
engage  his  heart,  but  which  he  utters  from  a  mere 
sense  of  duty,  or  from  superstitious  fear,  or  from 
habit,  is  an  inexpressible  audacity.  Yet  it  is  often 
done.  And  it  is  said,  "  If  you  do  not  feel  like  pray 
ing,  pray  till  you  do."  Now  there  certainly  are 
degrees  of  interest ;  and  a  man  may  be  blameless  for 
experiencing  less  fervor  at  the  beginning  of  a  devo 
tional  period  than  at  the  end  of  it.  But  for  a  man  to 
employ  prayer  as  a  mere  exercise,  or  as  a  mere  mode 
of  giving  himself  a  stirring  up — to  stand  before  God 
and  assume  the  tones,  the  language,  the  manner  of  feel 
ing,  for  the  sake  of  coming  by  and  by  into  the  feeling, 
is  a  desecration  of  prayer  almost  blasphemous. 

If  it  be  asked,  "  What  then  shall  a  man  do  ?  Shall 
he  neglect  prayer  until  he  does  feel  ?  Shall  he  refuse 
to  take  part  in  a  prayer-meeting  until  the  glow  is 
upon  him  ?" — the  answer  is  that  such  a  man  should 
not  neglect  prayer,  neither  in  his  closet,  nor  perhaps 
in  the  prayer-meeting.  But  he  mus"t  prepare  himself 
for  prayer.  He  must  watch  and  study  for  the  dispo 
sition.  He  should  refresh  his  mind  with  Scriptural 


206  WHERE    CHKISTIANS    MEET. 

truths,  and  should  consider  his  own  wants  and  sinful- 
ness.  This  he  should  do  apart  from  noise  and  excite 
ment,  if  possible ;  and  he  may  be  aided  in  doing  it 
by  employing  hymns  and  psalms,  which  will  often 
times  speedily  carry  his  mind  out  of  a  dull  and  dead 
frame  into  some  beginnings  of  life.  He  may  thus 
come  into  a  state  in  which  prayer  will  not  be  a  stupid 
act,  or  a  dead  form,  but  the  glowing  expression  of  a 
living  feeling. 

This  is  a  proper  preparation  for  prayer,  whether 
public  or  private.  If  prayers  in  a  prayer-meeting 
cannot  be  genuine,  they  might  better  be  omitted, 
and  hymns  sung  in  their  place.  If  but  a  single  sen 
tence  is  uttered,  let  it  be  real ;  and  let  utterance 
cease  when  the  heart  no  longer  prompts — and  the 
heart  will  often  have  ceased  its  promptings  long 
before  a  recitation  of  fifteen  minutes  is  concluded. 
One  moment  of  real  communion  with  God  is  prayer, 
but  a  whole  hour  of  recited  words,  without  feeling, 
is  not  prayer,  and  is  worse  than  none. 

The  way  to  kill  a  prayer-meeting  is  to  make  it  con 
ventional,  and  the  chief  secret  of  conducting  it  so  that 
it  shall  minister  to  edification,  is  to  force  people  out 
of  conventional  ways ;  to  break  up  hereditary  and 
stereotyped  unwritten  forms  of  prayer ;  to  keep  off 
those  impertinent  moths  called  exhorters,  that  fly 
about  the  flame  of  rising  feeling ;  to  charm  men  into 
forgetfulness  of  the  machinery  of  the  meeting ;  and 
to  make  them  talk  artlessly,  naturally,  and  sensibly. 

But  above  all,  let  all  pretence,  all  mock  solemnity 
and  devotion,  be  put  away.  Let  no  man  suffer  him 
self  to  appear  to  his  brethren  to  be  what  he  is  not ,  • 


WHERE   CIIlilSTlANS    MKET.  207 

for  this  is  part  of  the  injunction,  uLet  every  man 
speak  truth  with  his  neighbor."  If  this  rule  be  not 
observed,  and  the  frequent  tendencies  to  violate  it  be 
not  corrected,  the  prayer-meetings  will  degenerate, 
and  people  will  lose  first  all  profit  and  then  all  inte 
rest  in  them.  For,  what  if  people  should  go  to  an 
evening  party,  not  in  their  natural  character,  but,  one 
striving  to  be  brilliant,  another  to  be  witty,  another 
to  be  instructive,  another  to  be  profound?  Who 
could  endure  the  sham?  There  is  need  in  prayer- 
meetings  of  men  who  are  willing  to  stand  simply  and 
only  on  what  they  are  and  what  they  have. 

The  speaking  in  prayer-meetings  should  be  conver 
sational,  and  so,  natural.  The  words  spoken  should 
now  naturally  from  the  heart's  experience,  or  else  it 
were  better  to  be  silent.  Usually,  however,  when  a 
man  has  nothing  to  say,  he  gets  up  and  exhorts 
sinners  to  repent ;  or,  another,  whose  heart  is  empty, 
informs  the  church  that  tney  are  very  cold,  and  live 
far  beneath  their  privileges.  Such  prayers  or  exhor 
tations  may  be  very  glib  and  fluent,  but  they  are  as 
dry  of  sap  or  juice  as  last  year's  corn-husks.  They 
are  not  only  profitless  but  damaging.  On  the  con 
trary,  there  are  oftentimes  prayers,  humble,  timid, 
half-inaudible,  the  utterances  of  uncultivated  lips, 
that  may  cut  a  poor  figure  as  lecture-room  literature, 
that  are  nevertheless  not  to  be  scornfully  disdained. 
If  a  child  may  not  talk  at  all  till  he  can  speak  fluent 
English,  he  will  never  learn.  There  should  be  a 
process,  going  on,  continually,  of  education,  by  which 
all  the  members  of  the  church  should  be  able  to  con 
tribute  of  their  experiences  and  gifts ;  and,  in  such  a 


208  WHEKE   CHRISTIANS    MEET. 

course  of  development,  the  first  hesitating,  stumbling, 
ungrammatical  prayer  of  a  confused  Christian  may 
be  worth  more  to  the  church  than  the  best  prayer  of 
the  most  eloquent  pastor.  The  prayer  may  be  but 
little ;  but  it  is  not  a  little  thing  that  a  church  has 
one  more  man  who  is  beginning  to  pray  than  it  had 
before. 

The  conductor  of  a  prayer-meeting  should  have  a 
distinct  conception  of  what  such  a  meeting  is  to  be 
and  to  do ;  and  as  it  is  a  mutual  instruction  class,  a 
place  for  religious  feeling  to  take  the  social  element, 
his  chief  duty  should  be  to  draw  out  the  timid,  to 
check  the  obtrusive,  to  encourage  simple  and  true 
speaking,  and  to  apply  religious  truths  to  those 
wants,  and  struggles,  and  experiences  which  are 
freely  mentioned  there. 


THE  DAY   AND   THE  DESK. 

IT  is  no  small  thing,  as  it  regards  tlie  education  of 
tlie  community,  that  from  their  youth  up  they  have 
been  taught  to  discuss  all  questions  from  ascertained 
and  authoritative  moral  grounds.  The  rhetoric  or 
argument  of  ancient  civilization  was  secular,  both  in 
its  spirit  and  aims.  The  intellect  and  the  imagina 
tion  were  trained,  not  the  conscience  or  the  affec 
tions. 

To  have  the  whole,  or  the  greatest  part,  of  the 
community  gather  together  every  week  for  the  reli 
gious  discussion  of  life  questions,  cannot  fail  to  estab 
lish  a  public  mind  which  no  other  known  causes 
could  produce.  The  family  educates  the  affections. 
Secular  affairs  train  and  sharpen  the  business  facul 
ties.  Public  affairs  give  general  information;  but 
where  is  moral  training  to  come  from  ? 

The  moral  element  in  man  has  but  a  sorry  chance 
against  his  selfish  faculties  and  his  passions.  A  few, 
in  every  community,  are  so  endowed  as  to  stand  up, 
men  of  integrity  and  of  natural  religion,  without  or 
even  against  training.  They  may  not  be  Christians. 
But  they  are  men  of  a  strong  religious  nature,  and  of 
slender  passions,  to  whom  justice  and  an  imperfect 
spirituality  is  congenial.  Such  cases  are  single  and 
isolated.  The  mass  of  men  are  not  just  nor  religious, 
unless  in  a  fragmentary  way  in  exceptional  instances 


210  THE  DAY  AND  THE  DESK. 

Take  men  as  they  rise,  and  their  selfish  and  animal 
instincts  are  more  active,  more  influential  than  their 
religious  feelings.  The  habits  of  life  are  founded  upon 
current  selfishness.  The  character  is  shaped  by  the 
influence  of  three  or  four  feelings, — the  love  of  pro 
perty,  of  power,  and  influence,  of  praise,  and  by  the 
love  of  animal  indulgence. 

Benevolence,  as  an  overruling  power;  justice 
between  man  and  man,  as  a  controlling  force;  a 
love  of  God  and  a  salutary  reverence  for  him,  as  an 
atmosphere  in  which  the  soul  breathes,  these  are  not 
common.  From  the  beginning  of  life,  the  conscience 
is  apt  to  be  uneducated,  or  overlaid  by  selfishness,  or 
drugged  and  silenced.  Men  are  good-natured,  or 
generous,  upon  occasions.  A  few  are  benevolent. 

In  the  most  select  and  best  communities  not  one  in 
a  thousand  is  benevolent.  Not  one  in  a  hundred  is 
generous.  When  their  own  interests  or  wishes  are  not 
to  be  sacrificed ;  when  kindness  runs  parallel  with  self 
ishness  ;  wrhen  good  service  costs  nothing,  and  is  even 
easier  than  its  opposite,  then,  one  must  be  either  a 
dyspeptic,  or  a  very  bad  man,  if  he  be  not  kind  and 
generous.  But  in  such  cases  the  good  feeling  is  a 
very  narrow  valley  between  very  high  mountains  on 
either  side.  Of  all  the  men  that  are  regarded  as 
respectable  in  New  York,  how  many  act  from  such 
deliberate  convictions  of  conscience,  that  it  may  be 
said  of  them  they  are  governed  by  a  sense  of  Right  ? 
How  many  are  benevolent — not  in  the  sense  of  being 
good-natured  when  they  are  pleased,  or  kind  when 
everything  is  to  their  mind,  or  generous  when  it  costs 
them  nothing  and  is  easier  than  selfishness — but 


THE  DAY  AND  THE  DESK.  211 

when  to  be  so  requires  self-denial  and  moral  princi 
ple  ?  Our  own  convictions,  founded  upon  observa 
tion,  are,  that  very  few  have  such  benevolence,  either 
by  nature  or  by  grace.  Our  impression  is  that  reli 
gion  has  hitherto  developed  reverence  toward  God, 
carefulness  of  one's  own  life  and  conduct,  and  benevo 
lence  when  it  does  not  cost  too  much. 

We  see  nothing  in  the  ordinary  influences  of  soci 
ety  which  tends  to  rectify  this  :  nothing  in  secular 
institutions;  nothing  in  the  course  of  business. 
Schools  and  seminaries  cannot  frame  the  man's 
habits,  nor  train  the  moral  nature.  It  is  in  this  view 
that  we  regard  the  Sabbath  and  the  Pulpit  as  indis 
pensable  to  society.  The  Sabbath  is  a  day  of  bodily 
rest,  doubtless  ;  it  is  a  day  for  social  culture  ;  it  is  to 
be  advocated  for  reasons,  therefore,  of  secular  expe 
diency. 

There  is  a  ground  higher  than  all  these.  It  is  the 
day  for  religious  education.  There  is  110  substitute 
for  it.  The  work  which  above  all  others  man  needs 
to  have  done,  cannot  be  done  except  through  the 
force  and  observance  of  some  such  institution. 

The  Pulpit  is  the  popular  religious  educator.  Its 
object  is  to  stimulate  and  develop  the  religious  feel 
ings.  All  subjects  upon  which  men  think  or  act,  all 
relations  and  duties,  all  observances,  amusements, 
occupations,  and  sympathies  need  to  be  discussed  by 
every  man  from  the  ground  of  religious  principles. 
Left  to  themselves,  few  men  will  so  discuss  them. 
Week  by  week  men  should  hear  their  daily  life  dis- 
•  cussed,  not  from  selfish  principles,  not  from  a 
ground  of  expediency,  not  from  popular  points  of 


212  THE  DAY  AND  THE  DESK. 

view,  but  from  the  highest  religious  grounds.  Tc 
have  the  whole,  or  the  greatest  part  of  the  com 
munity  assembling  for  the  expression  of  reveren 
tial  feeling  is  beneficial  doubtless.  This  should  be 
an  element  of  Sabbath  observance.  But  this  very 
feeling  will  itself  depend  upon  a  previous  education 
and  development  of  the  whole  religious  nature. 
That  development  will  take  place  most  healthfully 
and  rapidly  by  such  a  system  of  education  as  shall 
lead  men  habitually  to  look  at  all  things  from  the 
religious  stand-point.  When  a  whole  community  are 
wont  to  have  their  social  life,  their  secular  business, 
their  public  duties,  taken  out  of  their  low  and  selfish 
attitudes  and  lifted  up  into  the  light  of  God's  counte 
nance,  and  then  measured,  judged,  repressed  or 
developed,  and  wholly  bathed  or  inspired  by  the 
spirit  of  conscience  and  of  love,  then  they  are  receiv 
ing  a  moral  education,  for  which  there  is  no  other 
provision  except  the  Sabbath  and  the  Pulpit.  And 
we  regard  the  Day  and  the  Desk  to  be  as  needful  to 
the  refined  and  philosophic  as  to  the  rude  and  unlet 
tered,  though  for  different  reasons.  Great  culture  is 
liable  to  take  a  selfish  and  subtle  pride,  which, 
though  not  as  destructive  to  the  animal  economy, 
are  fully  as  injurious  to  religious  purity  as  vice  and 
appetite. 


IS  CONVERSION  INSTANTANEOUS? 

A   LETTER   TO    A   FRIRND. 

MT  DEAR  SIR  :  I  am  glad  that  we  are  of  one 
belief  as  to  the  reality  of  that  momentous  change 
which  is  usually  called  conversion  or  regeneration. 
We  agree,  too,  that  such  a  change  does  not  require 
violence  to  be  done  to  the  mental  organization.  A 
man  has  the  same  faculties,  intellectual,  moral,  social, 
and  animal,  before  conversion  as  after.  Neither  are 
the  constitutional  functions  changed ;  nor  the  laws  of 
mind,  under  which  all  mental  life  exists.  The  change 
is  analogous  to  that  which  happens  to  a  thoroughly 
and  chronically  diseased  body,  when  it  becomes 
decidedly  convalescent.  All  the  vital  organs,  and 
every  minute  vessel  throughout  the  system  is  changed 
from  a  morbid  to  a  natural  condition.  There  is 
neither  increase  nor  diminution  of  the  organs  of  the 
body ;  there  is  nothing  taken  from,  and  nothing 
added  to  the  normal  functions  of  the  organs.  In  like 
manner,  the  change  of  mind  is  not  one  of  faculty 
but  of  function ;  and  in  function,  the  change  is  only 
from  a  disordered  to  a  normal  and  healthful  state. 

Is  such  a  change  instantaneous  ?  You  think  that 
it  is  not.  Many  devout  Christians  agree  with  you. 
Indeed,  taking  the  world  through,  I  presume  that  you 
are  with  the  majority.  Nor  is  it  to  be  denied  that  you 

213 


214:  IS    CONVERSION    INSTANTANEOUS? 

have  many  apparent  reasons  for  such  doubt.  Yet,  it 
seems  to  me  that  both  facts  and  analogies  are  against 
you  when  the  matter  is  critically  searched. 

Every  serious  change  that  befalls  the  mind  may  be 
said  to  have  three  stages — the  preparatory  stage,  the 
stage  of  actual  change,  and  the  after  stage.  It  is 
of  neither  the  first,  nor  the  last,  but  of  the  middle 
one,  that  we  affirm  instantaneousness.  We  say  that 
the  act  of  volition,  or  of  voluntary  transition  from 
one  purpose  or  condition  of  mind  to  another,  is 
always  instantaneous,  although  the  circumstances 
which  led  to  it,  and  the  results  which  follow  it,  may 
be  long-drawn  and  gradual.  A  man  may  determine 
to  change  his  secular  vocation.  The  reasons  inclining 
him  thereto  may  gradually  arise,  and  grow  in  force 
from  day  to  day  for  months,  and  even  years.  But 
the  determination,  at  last,  is  a  sudden,  momentary 
act.  After  the  decision,  months  may  be  required  to 
carry  it  completely  into  effect. 

So  that  there  are  in  a  change  of  religious  feeling 
two  gradual  stages  and  one  instantaneous.  The 
mind  may  become  gradually,  and,  more  and  more, 
deeply  serious ;  the  perception  of  neglected  truths  may 
be  progressive  ;  the  motives  to  a  decision  for  or  against 
a  religious  life  may  be  long  accumulating;  but,  at 
length,  there  is  a  time  of  choice ;  and  whether  per 
ceived  or  not,  that  decisive  choice  will  be  instantane 
ous.  Then  comes  the  after  stage — the  carrying  out 
of  the  determination.  The  eradication  of  bad  habits, 
the  development  of  right  feelings,  the  reduction  of 
conduct  to  religious  principle ;  in  short,  the  formation 
of  religious  character,  is  gradual. 


IS    CONVERSION    INSTANTANEOUS  ?  21 5 

Iii  the  popular  mind  conversion  improperly  includes 
all  the  stages  which  we  have  discriminated  ;  and  of 
such  a  conversion  it  is  rightly  said  that  it  must  be 
gradual.  But  conversion,  as  a  mere  act  of  choice,  is 
instantaneous.  We  affirm  all  volition  to  be  instanta 
neous.  "While  one  weight  after  another  goes  into  the 
scale  you  are  preparing  for  the  counterpoise ;  but 
when  the  index  passes  the  centre,  it  passes  at  once. 
In  like  manner,  wrh en  the  mind  holds  a  change  in 
view,  it  may  be  long  in  coming  toward  a  decision ;  it 
may  vacillate  and  swing  first  to  the  one  and  then  to 
the  other  side.  But  when  each  faculty  but  the  last 
one  has  consented,  and  at  length,  long  resisting,  that 
faculty  coincides  with  the  rest,  the  decision  is  instant 
and  decisive. 

The  recognition  of  this  change,  by  the  individual, 
will  depend  upon  tlie  character  of  his  mind.  Those 
who  have  strong  emotions,  all  of  whose  changes  fol 
low  or  are  instantly  followed  by  the  intellect,  will 
perceive  that  a  transition  has  been  made. 

Those  who  have  strong  and  positive  emotions,  but 
are  not  wont  intellectually  to  inspect  them,  v>  ill  feel 
that  there  is  a  change. 

Those  with  an  even  and  gentle,  emotive  tempera 
ment,  will  not  intellectually  recognize  the  mental 
transition,  but  will  first  be  conscious  of  it  from  the 
results  that  begin  to  appear. 

From  these  statements  we  should  be  led  to  expect 
that  religious  changes  would  be  most  apparently  sud 
den  among  uncultivated  minds,  which  being  uncon 
trolled,  act  under  emotion,  with  extremes  of  fiux  and 
reflux ;  among  men  of  violent  passions  ;  among  those 


216  18   CONVERSION   INSTANTANEOUS? 

who  have  been  the  most  entirely  destitute  of  moral 
sensibility.  "We  should  suspect,  also,  that  such 
changes  would  be,  at  the  time,  perceived  by  all 
minds,  robust  or  feeble,  positive  or  gentle,  in  times 
of  great  general  excitement,  in  which  the  mind  is 
more  active  and  moves  more  strongly  than  alone,  by 
reason  of  sympathy  with  other  minds.  Facts  cor 
roborate  such  expectations. 

The  distinction  between  a  real  instantaneous  change 
of  mind,  and  the  instant  recognition  of  that  change, 
should  not  be  forgotten.  As  the  change  of  mind  may 
be  induced  or  prevented  with  great  facility  by  the 
degree  of  knowledge  possessed  of  the  mind  on  which 
influence  is  to  be  exerted,  by  the  nature  of  the  means 
employed,  and  by  the  skill  with  which  such  means 
are  applied  to  the  mind ;  so,  the  recognition  of  that 
change  will  depend  in  part  upon  one's  emotive  tem 
perament,  and  upon  the  habits  of  decision  which  one 
possesses ;  in  part,  upon  the  condition  of  the  mind  at 
the  time,  and  in  part  upon  the  instructions  received, 
directing  the  mind's  attention  to  such  phenomena. 

I  imagine  that  you  will  say,  of  all  this  disquisition, 
"  It  may  be  curious,  but  is  it  of  practical  importance  ? 
Its  merit  is  metaphysical.  It  will  do  no  good  in 
actual  life." 

On  the  contrary,  though  it  is  metaphysically  true, 
its  chief  importance  is  that  it  takes  hold  so  earnestly 
and  efficiently  on  practice.  A  mind  taught  to  believe 
in  the  reality  and  necessity  of  an  instant  choice  will 
act  with  directness  and  brevity.  The  belief  in  grad 
ual  conversion  goes  hand  in  hand  with  procrastination 
and  mere  promissory  amendment.  Neither  can  the 


IS   CONVEKSION   INSTANTANEOUS?  217 

efforts  of  Christians  nor  of  ministers  be  the  same  under 
the  two  systems.  Those  who  trust  to  a  gradual  amelio 
ration  cannot  in  the  nature  of  things  work  with  that 
directness,  with  that  sharp  activity,  and  strong  hope, 
which  they  have  who  expect  an  immediate  result.  To 
labor  for  a  future,  indefinite,  gradual  change,  is  like 
growing  acorns ;  to  labor  for  an  immediate  change  is 
like  growing  wheat.  In  the  latter  case,  the  appointed 
months  are  so  definite,  the  harvest  so  near,  and  the 
result  so  sure,  that  all  have  hope,  and  faith,  and 
industry ;  while  few  are  found  sowing  acorn  seed  for 
forests,  which  other  hands,  in  another  generation 
shall  fell  and  use. 


10 


NATURAL  LAWS  AND   SPECIAL  PROVIDENCES. 

THE  human  mind  tends  to  pass  from  one  ex 
treme  of  truth  to  the  other.  The  mind  of  com 
munities  touches  both  extremes  before  it  settles 
down  at  the  intermediate  point  of  truth.  There 
is  no  great  truth  which,  being  pressed  far  enough 
in  one  direction,  will  not  meet  another  bearing  up 
against  it  from  the  opposite.  There  is,  for  instance, 
the  truth  of  man's  liberty;  press  it  far  enough  and  it 
will  be  met  and  restrained  by  the  equal  truth  of 
man's  dependence.  The  truth  of  man's  individual 
ity  ;  press  it  to  a  certain  distance,  and  it  will  meet 
another  truth,  equally  certain — man's  associated 
life.  There  is  the  truth  of  the  necessity  of  help 
ing  men,  and  the  other  truth,  just  as  important, 
that  if  you  help  them  you  will  destroy  them ; — for 
there  is  nothing  worse  than  help  which  impairs  the 
disposition  of  men  to  help  themselves,  and  nothing 
so  bad  as  not  to  help  them  when  they  need  help. 
There  is  also  the  doctrine  of  free  agency,  and  the 
counter  doctrine  of  dependence  upon  God.  There  is 
no  one  great  line  of  thought  which,  being  pursued  at 
length,  does  not  meet  another  coming  from  the  oppo 
site  ;  and  a  man's  mind  should  stand  at  the  centre  of 
the  wheel,  and  all  truths  should  come  to  it  from  every 
Bide  as  the  spokes  of  one  great  wheel. 

218 


NATURAL  LAWS  AND  SPECIAL   PKOVIDENCES.         219 

It  is  on  this  account  that  men  vibrate  between  two 
extremes ;  and  only  after  wide  investigation  that  they 
take  in  all  truth. 

Before  men  had  learned  much  of  the  globe,  and  of 
physical  laws,  they  were  guided,  in  assigning  causes 
for  the  eifects  which  they  witnessed,  by  their  venera 
tion  and  imagination.  When  the  imagination,  in 
stead  of  reason,  guides  ignorant  men,  they  are  almost 
always  wont  to  ascribe  effects,  whose  causes  are  not 
visible,  to  spiritual  influence,  infernal  or  supernal. 
The  progress  of  observation  and  investigation  drives 
men  from  these  superstitious  notions,  and  one  effect 
after  another  is  wrested  from  the  supposed  agency  of 
spirits,  and  becomes  affixed  to  its  natural  cause. 
This  was  the  case  with  celestial  appearances — the 
comets,  the  Aurora  Borealis.  This  was  the  case  also, 
in  a  great  measure,  with  diseases.  It  is  not  long  since 
pestilences,  plagues,  and  many  special  forms  of  disease, 
such  as  leprosy,  and  many  varieties  of  convulsive 
disease  which  affected  the  nervous  system,  were 
regarded  by  the  medical  faculty,  and  by  the  church 
itself,  as  the  results  of  spiritual  or  supernatural  causes. 
It  is  only  since  the  art  of  printing  that  these  notions 
have  been  in  a  measure  done  away.  I  remember,  in 
my  own  day,  very  long  sermons  to  prove  that  the 
cholera  did  not  depend  on  natural  agencies,  but  that 
God  held  it  in  his  hand,  and  dropped  it  down  upon 
the  world. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  there  are  moral  results  to  be 
wrought  out  by  all  these  natural  phenomena,  but  it 
was  held  that  they  were  produced  by  preternatural 
means.  It  is  not  many  ages  since  a  man  would  have 


220  NATUKAL   LAWS    AND 

been  expelled  from  any  sound  church,  if  he  did 
not  believe  that  diseases  resulted  from  the  direct 
exercise  of  divine  power,  instead  of  intermediate 
causation ;  and  that  healing  was  to  be  effected  only 
through  some  form  of  spiritual  incantation. 

The  same  was  true  of  the  common  events  of  familiar 
life.  Men  saw  evidence  of  the  agency  of  good  and 
of  bad  spirits  around  them,  at  all  times,  and  in  every 
minute  event.  Since  the  world  began  this  has  been 
common ;  and  it  is  no  commoner  now  than  ever 
before.  Men  have  always  been  watching  with  super 
stitious  fear,  lest,  some  charm  being  forgotten,  lurk 
ing  mischief  should  gain  advantage  of  them. 

The  growth  of  natural  science  has  tended  very 
much  to  sweep  away  such  views ;  first,  from  philo 
sophical  minds ;  gradually,  as  general  information 
increased,  from  the  minds  of  all  well-informed  com 
mon  men :  and  now,  in  the  immense  progress  of 
science  and  the  diffusion  of  a  knowledge  of  it  among 
the  common  people,  there  is  a  very  marked  tendency 
to  go  to  the  opposite  extreme,  and  not  only  to  refer 
each  special  effect  to  a  corresponding  natural  cause, 
but  to  deny  that  there  are  any  effects  which  are  the 
results  of  divine  volition.  Some  men  are  ready  to 
say  that  all  things  are  effects  of  physical  causes,  and 
that  there  is  no  immediate  divine  volition  exerted  upon 
natural  laws.  This  is  as  monstrous  in  science,  as  it  is 
absurd  in  religion.  If  men  take  the  premise  that  all 
effects  to  be  expected  in  this  world  are  provided  for 
in  organized  natural  laws,  and  that  there  are  none 
which  result  from  divine  efficiency,  they  must  go 
through  with  all  the  conclusions.  They  must  hold 


SPECIAL   PROVIDENCES.  221 

that  human  intelligence  is  our  only  guide  in 
this  world,  or,  in  other  words,  is  the  only  God  of 
natural  powers ;  they  must  argue  that  no  man  will  be 
helped  in  this  world  except  so  far  as  he  helps  himself, 
by  finding  out  the  paths  of  nature  and  walking  in 
them — a  falsehood  which  is  all  the  worse  because  it 
is  half  true.  For  in  making  an  axe,  the  head  is  of  iron 
and  the  edge  of  steel ;  but  the  head  is  the  larger  and 
heavier  part,  while  the  edge  is  but  a  narrow  strip. 
So,  with  such  a  falsehood ;  the  greater  part  of  it  is 
true,  but  this  is  made  only  to  add  weight  and  power 
to  the  cutting  edge,  which  is  false.  They  must 
declare  that  the  belief  in  a  special  and  particular 
providence  is  a  superstition;  that  God  works  by 
laws,  and  that  he  never  interferes  with  or  uses 
them.  They  must  believe  that,  consequently,  prayer 
is  a  mere  poetic  exercise ;  good  to  those  that  like 
it,  only  because  it  reacts  upon  their  feelings,  and 
soothes  and  calms  them.  They  must  suppose  that 
prayers  which  the  heathen  write,  and  which  the  wind 
offers  up  for  them  by  turning  a  wheel,  like  a  mill,  are 
as  effectual  on  the  laws  of  nature  as  an  humble 
Christian's  prayer.  They  must  hold  that  the  doctrine 
of  miracles  is  to  be  given  up,  as  nothing  but  a  superla 
tive  superstition.  And,  for  this  matter,  such  men  usu 
ally  do  teach  that  miracles  always  happened  in  dark 
ages,  among  ignorant  men ;  that  many  of  the  same 
results  can  now  be  produced  by  scientific  causes ;  and 
that  a  belief  iii  them,  as  effects  divinely  produced,  is 
unworthy  of  an  enlightened  philosopher. 

I  need  not  say  how  far  men  have  drifted  away 
from  the  New   Testament,  who  have  reached  this 


222  NATURAL   LAWS    AND 

ground.  Such  a  man  is  not  only  not  a  Christian,  but 
whatever  natural  religion  he  may  have,  if  he  be  con 
sistent,  he  must  reject  the  New  Testament  altogether, 
as  an  authoritative  guide,  and  give  himself  up  to 
Nature  and  Reason.  For,  if  there  be  one  truth  more 
especially  taught  in  the  Bible  than  another,  it  is  the 
fact  of  God's  activity  and  influence  in  human  life. 
If  there  ever  comes  a  day  in  which  it  can  be  shown 
by  science,  that  there  is  no  active  interference  of  the 
divine  creative  will  in  the  special  affairs  of  men,  sci 
ence  in  that  day  will  demolish  the  New  Testament. 
When  it  can  be  scientifically  demonstrated  that  no 
more  effects  are  wrought  in  this  world  by  the  inten 
tional  interposition  of  divine  volition,  than  those 
which  fall  out  in  the  way  of  ordinary  and  unhelped 
natural  causation,  in  that  day,  I  am  free  to  say,  the 
New  Testament  will  be  overthrown.  It  will  be  re 
garded  as  an  amiable  boot,  but  one  whose  doctrines 
have  been  refuted,  and  are  passed  away. 

This  doctrine  of  the  presence  and  actual  interfer 
ence  of  God  in  the  world,  producing  effects  which 
would  not  have  fallen  out  otherwise,  is  taught  in  the 
Bible  as  against  idolatry,  as  against  naturalism  (in 
the  early  chapters  of  John),  as  the  argument  and 
foundation  of  prayer,  of  courage,  of  patience,  and  of 
hope,  and  as  a  special  development,  among  others, 
of  the  incarnation  of  Christ  to  bring  to  light  the  real 
ity  of  God,  who  wrought  invisibly  in  life  and  nature, 
both  before  and  since. 

It  is  to  be  admitted  that  this  globe  and  its  inhabit 
ants  are  included  in  a  system  of  physical  laws ;  that 
these  are,  in  tlfeir  nature,  unchanged  and  unchange- 


SPECIAL   PROVIDENCES.  223 

able ;  that  they  are  incapable  of  increase  or  decrease ; 
that  they  are  sufficient  for  all  ordinary  purposes  of 
human  life ;  that  the  welfare  and  happiness  of  men 
depend  largely  upon  a  wise  employment  of  them ; 
and  that  the  progress  of  the  race  is  largely  to  be 
effected  by  their  wise  application  of  them.  Not 
.only  would  I  cast  no  obstacle  in  the  way  of  scientific 
research,  but  I  hail  it  as  the  great  almoner  of  God's 
bounty.  Men  should  be  instructed  to  become 
better  acquainted  with  the  laws  and  influences 
which  operate  upon  both  the  body  and  the  mind, 
and  upon  the  natural  world.  Men  will  never  be  as 
good  Christians  as  they  ought,  until  they  know  more 
perfectly  how  their  bodies  are  put  together,  and  what 
is  in  their  own  minds,  and  the  natural  laws  of  the 
one  and  of  the  other.  Science  is  yet  to  interpret  Scrip 
ture,  in  many  respects ;  and  I  am  persuaded  that  all 
the  most  characteristic  elements  of  revealed  or  inspired 
truth  will  in  the  end  be  corroborated  and  not  harm 
ed,  by  the  progress  of  natural  science.  I  believe  in 
everything  that  is  true.  I  am  not  necessarily  to 
believe  in  everything  that  pretends  to  be  true ;  but 
when  anything  is  proved,  whatever  it  overturns,  I  am 
bound  to  it  by  the  allegiance  with  which  I  am 
bound  to  God  !  He  that  denies  the  truth  in  or  out 
of  the  Bible,  denies  God ! 

The  progress  of  science  lays  a  surer  foundation 
for  a  belief  in  God's  active  interference  in  human 
affairs  than  has  existed  without  it.  When  maturer 
fruits  of  investigation  shall  be  had,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  science  itself  will  establish  our  faith  in 
prayer,  in  miracles,  and  in  special  providence. 


224:  NATURAL   LAWS    AND 

There  are  respects  in  which  natural  laws  are 
beyond  the  reach  of  all  human  interference  and  con 
trol.  There  are  spheres  in  which  light  and  heat  can 
not  be  touched  and  controlled.  There  are  various 
attractions  which  perform  in  their  own  way  their  own 
work,  beyond  man's  guidance  or  reach— such  are  the 
great  laws  which  bind  together  the  stellar  universe. 
Great  cmsrents  and  passages  of  natural  powers  are  put 
entirely  beyond  man's  hand.  But  it  is  just  as  certain 
that  there  are,  also,  in  God's  system  of  nature,  another 
class  of  laws  which  come  close  to  us,  and  whose 
office  is,  or  seems  to  be,  to  minister  to  human  life. 
They  are  either  modifications  of  great  laws,  or  they 
are  separate  laws.  And  in  respect  to  these,  I  affirm 
that  they  are  not  fructified,  and  do  not  perform  their 
function,  till  they  are  controlled  by  human  volition. 
God  has  made  the  agencies  which  concern  human 
life,  to  be  of  such  a  nature,  that  the  human  mind  is 
necessary  to  the  full  development  and  greatest  fruitful- 
ness  of  natural  laws.  It  is  supposed  by  many  that 
a  natural  law  is  perfect  in  itself;  whereas  it  is  per 
fected,  in  many  instances,  only  when  it  is  permeated 
by  human  volition. 

Electricity,  for  instance,  plays  a  round  of  its  own. 
It  has  its  own  pastures,  and  its  own  great  running 
grounds.  It  performs  a  large  function  unknown — 
beyond  our  reach,  and  without  our  knowledge.  But 
so  far  as  ordinary  purposes  of  civilized  life  are 
concerned,  electricity  does  nothing  till  we  have 
taught  it  how  to  serve  us  ;  then  it  runs  swifter  races 
for  human  convenience  than  ever  were  run  before. 
When  the  mind  takes  hold  of  it,  electricity  becomes 


SPECIAL   FROYIDENCES.  225 

a  patient  drudge ;  so  that  we  now  work  by  lightning, 
which  would  never  have  done  a  single  thing  for  us  if 
it  had  not  been  harnessed  by  the  human  mind.  But 
now,  above  the  sea,  and  under  the  sea  ere  long,  it 
shall  carry  the  messages  of  nations,  flashing  from  the 
East  to  the  West,  proclaiming  war  or  heralding 
peace,  and  performing  the  great  offices  of  civiliza 
tion.  When  man  takes  it  by  the  head  and  says, 
"  Receive  my  bridle,"  and  throws  over  it  the  saddle, 
and  says,  "  Take  me  for  your  rider,"  it  becomes 
patient  and  submissive,  and  acknowledges  man  as  its 
master. 

Light  performs  a  great  amount  of  work, — whether 
we  are  waking  or  sleeping;  in  its  vast  journeys 
through  the  universe — in  its  sun-flashes  and  moon- 
reflections  ;  but  man's  mind  seizes  this  law,  and  does 
what  Phaeton  could  not,  drives  it.  We  have  it  in  our 
dwelling.  We  make  it  work  along  our  coasts.  We 
divide  it,  and  set  it  at  work  in  the  garden  and  on  the 
farm.  We  give  it  the  power  of  a  living  pencil,  and 
make  it  draw  artists'  pictures.  And  yet  we  are  in  the 
midst  of  a  carping  set  of  philosophers  who  say  that 
we  can  obey  natural  laws,  but  cannot  control  them. 
We  do  control  them. 

Water  has  a  certain  round  of  grand  effects,  and  these 
are  performed  whether  a  creature  looks  on,  or  not. 
The  ocean  never  asks  man  what  it  may  do  writh  its 
own  waves  and  upon  its  owrn  domain  !  The  old  Polar 
Sea — the  only  mystery  now  left  among  the  oceans  of 
the  globe — has  rolled  for  ages,  by  day  and  night,  by 
summer  and  winter,  with  no  eye  to  watch  it — except 
from  above !  That  mighty  unexplored  wilderness  of 

10* 


226  NATURAL   LAWS   AND 

mysterious  water ! — It  does  wliat  it  will,  and  is  not 
dependent  upon  man.  But  water  is  dependent  upon 
him  for  doing  many  tilings  which  it  never  could  do 
otherwise.  While  it  works  in  nature  and  on  the 
globe,  it  is  not  subject  to  his  will ;  but  when  it  works 
for  human  life,  it  immediately  becomes  his  disciple. 
Man  seizes  the  law,  and  canals  shoot  forth,  mills  live, 
irrigation  turns  barren  heaths  to  gardens,  tides  dig 
out  channels,  and  the  patient  hydrostatic  pump 
drives  down  to  her  element  the  vast  Leviathan. 
Water  could  do  none  of  these  things  without  man's 
help.  The  things  which  natural  laws  can  do,  with 
out  human  volition,  are  not  so  many  nor  are  they 
more  wonderful  than  the  things  which  they  do  only 
by  the  life-giving  touch  of  man's  mind. 

Heat,  in  the  sun,  produces  the  seasons.  How  vast 
is'  the  great  fire-place  of  the  universe  !  Yet,  compare 
it  with  the  sphere  in  which  fire  works  under  the  do 
minion  of  man — in  the  forge,  in  the  furnace,  over  the 
blow-pipe,  serving  the  domestic  range,  warming  the 
house,  and  pouring  summer  throughout  the  year 
within  the  dwelling ! 

Look  at  Nature's  Fruits.  There  is  but  a  beginning 
in  natural  fruits,  and  they  never,  when  left  to  nature 
alone,  reach  beyond  that  point.  When  a  man  finds 
a  crab-apple  in  the  woods,  he  would  not  willingly  find 
it  more  than  once ;  yet,  brought  to  his  own  orchard, 
it  becomes  a  fine  fruit.  But  did  nature  make  the 
pippin  ?  Nature  had  been  trying  her  hand  for  years 
and  years,  and  had  never  been  able  to  get  beyond 
the  crab-apple.  Man  says  to  her :  "  You  are  a  bun 
gling  apprentice ;  1  will  make  you  a  journeyman." 


SPECIAL   PROVIDENCES.  227 

Nature  can  make  iron,  but  she  never  made  a  sword. 
She  never  made  a  jack-knife,  a  steam-engine,  a  knife 
and  fork — nothing  but  bare,  cold,  dead  iron. 

Now,  is  this  a  course  of  specious  metaphysical  rea 
soning?  Is  not  this  truth  reasonable?  Are  not 
these  facts  alleged  conclusive  ?  And  if  they  be  true, 
what  is  the  result?  Nature  has  a  certain  crude,  gen 
eral  function  which  natural  laws  perform  of  them 
selves,  without  any  regard  to  men.  But  these  laws 
are  made  to  be  vitalized  and  directed  to  a  higher 
development  by  the  control  of  the  human  mind  and 
will.  The  laws  of  the  globe  are  to  be  taken  hold  of 
by  man's  will,  as  really  as  the  laws  of  the  body  are. 
The  secondary  effects  of  natural  laws  are  just  as  much 
a  part  of  their  nature  as  the  primary,  and  are  of  equal 
importance.  In  fact,  it  is  these  that  constitute  the 
elements  of  civilization.  "While  natural  laws,  in  a 
certain  way,  influence  and  control  men,  yet  they  are, 
in  the  effects  which  they  produce,  just  as  much  con 
trolled  by  man,  and  just  as  dependent  on  him.  If 
nature  should  abandon  men,  they  would  die,  and  it 
would  become  poverty-stricken.  Let  nature  forget 
us,  and  the  heart  would  cease  to  beat.  The  pulsa 
tions  of  endless  electrical  currents  would  cease.  On 
the  other  hand,  let  man  forget  nature,  and  the  city 
would  crumble,  and  go  back  to  a  wilderness ;  the 
garden  which  had  grown  up  from  a  thistle-ground, 
would  return  to  its  native  condition ;  cultivated  seeds 
would  shrink  back  to  their  original  poverty ;  and  all 
domestic  animals  would  rebound  to  their  wild  state. 
Nature  needs  man  to  keep  her  at  work. 

It  is  this  view  that  settles  all  questions  about  man's 


2*28  NATURAL   LAWS    AND 

necessity  to  obey.  God  lias  not  put  us  before  nature 
to  make  us  only  its  pupil,  but  also  its  master.  We 
are  not  alone  to  look  up  and  take,  but  to  look  down 
and  control.  We  are  not  only  to  obey,  but  also  to 
rule.  We  are  to  obey  for  the  sake  of  ruling.  The 
whole  talk  about  the  absolute  and  inflexible  govern 
ment  of  natural  law  has  no  foundation  except  in  fools' 
brains.  It  is  a  divided  empire,  and  man's  part  is 
more  than  nature's.  When  God  made  man,  he  made 
more  of  nature  in  him  than  he  did  in  all  the  rest  of 
the  world  besides ! 

The  question  now  arises-— Is  there  a  moral  or  scien 
tific  probability  that  God  ever  produces  results  by 
natural  laws,  in  this  world,  which  otherwise  would 
not  have  been  produced  ? — If  wre  drive  natural  laws, 
cannot  God  do  it  ?  I  hold,  because  the  Bible  teaches 
it,  and  now  I  hold  it  more  because  nature  and  science 
teach  it,  that  there  are  millions  of  results  that  neve.: 
would  have  fallen  out  in  the  course  of  nature,  that 
are  now  continually  happening  011  account  of  God's 
special  mercy.  The  doctrine  of  a  special  providence 
is  this.  God  administers  natural  laws — of  the  mind, 
the  body,  and  the  outward  world — so  as  to  produce 
effects  which  they  never  would  have  done  of  them 
selves.  Man  can  do  this,  and  why  not  God  ?  By  a 
wise  use  of  natural  laws  man  can  make  the  difference 
between  comfort  and  discomfort-.  He  can  till  the 
farm,  and  make  the  seasons  serve  him.  He  can  take 
natural  laws,  and  gird  himself  about  with  them,  so 
that  they  shall  make  him  rich,  and  wise,  and  strong. 
Men  can  do  it  for  themselves — why  cannot  God  do 
it  for  them  ?  Men  can  do  it  for  their  children — for 


SPECIAL  PROVIDENCES.  229 

their  neighbors'  children — for  scores  and  hundreds  of 
persons.  A  farmer  that  administers  his  estate  wisely, 
will  have  enough,  not  only  for  himself,  but  for  others. 
His  children  will  be  fed,  the  neighborhood  supplied, 
and  the  veins  of  commerce  swollen  by  the  overplus 
of  his  sagacity.  A  man  can  say  to  the  light,  to  the 
water,  to  the  seasons,  "  I  will,  by  you,  make  a  special 
providence  for  this  whole  town,"  and  he  can  do  it ; 
for  if  he  falls  back,  there  will  not  be  abundance,  but 
if  he  goes  forward  there  will  be.  That  is  not  all. 
A  man  may  be  put  at  a  point  where — as  Napoleon 
was,  or  "Wellington  in  Spain,  or  Sir  John  Moore  in 
the  north  of  Portugal,  or  Olive  in  India — he  can 
make  a  special  providence  for  a  nation,  for  a  race,  for 
an  age,  for  one  land  or  for  the  globe !  Now  God  can 
do  a  great  deal  more  than  man,  and  a  great  deal  bet 
ter.  Is  there  any  objection  to  such  a  doctrine? 

In  regard  to  the  doctrine  of  prayer,  many  men  say, 
"  Do  you  suppose  that  God  will  make  any  difference, 
whether  you  pray  or  not  ?"  The  reply  is,  that  God 
can,  if  he  chooses.  But  whether  he  will,  or  not, 
depends  very  much  on  how  I  pray,  and  what  I  pray 
for.  I  can  give  my  boy  a  book  or  a  bow  every  day 
in  the  year,  but  whether  I  will,  or  not,  is  another 
thing.  God  will  not  do  for  men  what  men  can  do 
for  themselves.  Nor  will  he  do  for  them  at  present, 
what  they,  after  a  proper  course  of  development, 
will  by  and  by  be  able  to  do  for  themselves.  But  a 
man  has  a  right  to  go  up  along  the  path  of  his  weak 
ness,  and  say,  "  I  have  done  what  I  could  ;  now  hear 
my  prayer,  and  do  for  me  what  I  cannot  do  for 
myself."  And  if  it  is  a  thing  that  is  needed,  God 


230  NATURAL   LAWS   AND 

will  answer  the  prayer.  For  lie  loves  to  give  needed 
things  better  than  earthly  parents  love  to  give  good 
gifts  to  their  children.  Suppose  you  have  been 
travelling  in  the  cars,  with  your  child,  and  it  becomes 
restless  with  fatigue.  Its  rest  has  been  broken  by 
night-travelling,  and  it  is  hungry  and  asks  for  food. 
But  a  bank  of  snow  lies  across  the  track,  and  the 
train  cannot  go  on.  It  waits.  Anybody  would  feel 
pity  for  such  a  child — even  if  it  were  a  negro's ! 
But  how  much  more  if  it  were  his  own  ?  And  if  it 
be  my  child,  and  says,  "  Pa,  water,  water," — it  cuts 
me  to  the  heart  to  hear  it !  But  by  and  by,  with 
double  and  treble  elements  of  iron,  the  track  is 
opened,  the  way  is  cleared,  and  we  are  hurried  on  to 
the  next  station.  The  first  bolt  I  make  is  into  the 
hotel ;  for  I  am  hungry,  not  for  myself,  but  for  the 
child ;  and  I  break  through  the  crowd  back  again 
into  the  car,  with  bread  in  my  hands  for  the  child. 
Ah,  do  you  suppose  the  bread  is  half  so  sweet  to  his 
mouth  as  to  my  eyes  that  watch  his  eager  eating  ? 
But  this  is  God's  figure  and  not  mine.  He  declares 
that  he  is  more  willing  to  give  good  gifts  to  them  that 
ask  him,  than  parents  are  to  give  to  their  children. 

Have  you  ever  prayed  on  this  principle  and  found 
your  prayer  unanswered?  Not  prayer  for  amuse 
ment  ;  for  some  men  pray,  who  begin  with  Adam, 
and  come  leisurely  down  all  the  way  through  to  "  thy 
kingdom  come,"  and  then  wind  up  with  the  "  power 
and  glory,  forever  and  ever,  Amen."  That  is  not 
prayer ;  or  at  least  it  is  not  such  praying  as  will 
be  answered.  But  did  you  ever,  under  the  pressure 
of  a  real  want,  go  to  God  and  say,  "  Thou,  Father, 


SPECIAL   PROVIDENCES.  231 

canst  help  me  ;  give  me  thine  aid,"  and  not  have 
your  prayer  answered  ?  Glorious  old  Martin  Luther 
knew  how  to  pray,  He  used  to  take  one  of  God's 
promises,  and  laying  it  down,  would  say,  "JNrow, 
Lord,  here  is  thy  word !  If  thou  dost  not  keep  it,  I 
will  never  believe  thee  again."  This  may  be  called 
audacious,  but  it  was  not  audacity  in  such  a  Christian 
as  Luther. 

What  is  needed  is,  that  we  should  take  a  larger  and 
broader  faith,  and  we  shall  then  have  no  difficulty 
with  special  providences,  or  miracles,  or  prayer ;  but 
all  their  problems  will  be  solved,  and  their  mysteries 
cleared  away. 


THE    DEAD    CHRIST. 

K"o  one  conversant  with  Christian  art  is  ignorant  of 
the  multitudes  of  pictures  and  carvings  of  the  Dead 
Christ.  Every  name  of  eminence  has  attempted  the 
subject ;  and  the  great  masters  have  again  and  again 
repeated  their  conceptions. 

One  of  the  most  affecting  that  ever  came  under 
our  eye,  is  that  in  the  National  Gallery  of  London, 
by  Francia,  we  believe.  The  Saviour  is  extended 
across  his  mother's  lap,  an  angel  sustains  his  head, 
and  another  his  feet.  We  gazed  long  at  the  sublime 
face,  now  motionless  and  cold,  pale  and  silent.  All 
the  majesty  of  his  life,  the  scenes  of  his  wonderful 
sorrow,  came  back  to  us ;  and,  whether  it  was  our 
imagination  or  the  real  expression  of  the  picture,  we 
certainly  felt  that  we  beheld  the  sorrow  that  slew  the 
Saviour  and  the  love  which  conquered  the  sorrow, 
both  together  ;  so  that  it  seemed  to  us  that  his  thorned 
head  was  overspread  with  sadness,  only  that  upon  it 
victorious  love  might  stand  forth  more  evidently  tri 
umphant.  It  was  not  a  boisterous  triumph,  nor  even 
a  radiant  victory  that  was  expressed,  but  the  calm, 
serene,  silent  victory  of  patience  and  unutterable 
affection.  We  are  not  fond  of  this  class  of  subjects. 
But  this  one  seemed  to  be  redeemed  from  the  weakness 
of  death,  and  to  suggest  no  thought  of  the  crushing 
of  power,  the  dishonoring  of  life,  but  only  of  a  strug- 


THE   DEAD   CHRIST.  233 

gle  in  which  Death  was  the  opening  of  a  gate  for  a 
spirit  to  march  forth  to  victory  ! 

In  art,  and  merely  as  art,  the  Dead  Christ  is  but 
barely  tolerable.  In  religion,  and  as  a  part  of  reli 
gion,  it  is  altogether  to  be  disallowed.  And  yet,  in 
the  preaching  of  Christ,  how  many  preach  a  Living 
Christ  ?  It  is  a  suffering  Christ,  a  tempted  Christ,  a 
dying  Christ,  a  buried  Christ.  Some  mysterious  ben 
efit  is  hoped  from  a  devout  contemplation  of  such  a 
moving  theme.  But  is  the  mere  natural  relation  of 
such  scenes  to  the  human  sympathies,  to  be  com 
pared  with  the  presentation  of  Christ — risen,  glori 
fied,  triumphantly  reigning ;  and  reigning  not  for  his 
own  enjoyment,  but  for  the  succor,  the  teaching,  and 
the  perfection  of  his  earthly  children  ?  Our  Saviour 
does  not  live  behind  eighteen  hundred  years  ago. 
We  are  not  to  be  pilgrims  along  the  misty  track  of 
Time,  waiting  for  him  in  Jerusalem,  and  lingering  in 
the  garden.  That  he  might  not  be  local,  a  being  of 
one  age  and  nation,  he  arose  to  that  blazing  centre 
which  knows  no  periods,  no  epoch,  no  time,  but  is  the 
eternal  Now.  He  is  to  every  age  a  Present  Saviour 
— to  every  soul  a  Living  Saviour  !  To  our  mind  he  is 
clothed  with  attributes  then  exhibited,  when  he  wore 
his  earthly  form  ;  but,  having  gained  a  clear  concep 
tion  of  what  Christ  was,  that  he  is,  and  that  we  are 
to  transfer  in  our  thoughts  to  the  invisible  One,  per 
petually  hovering  near  us.  The  hope  and  the  joy  of 
Christians  are  not  in  the  past,  but  in  the  present.  It 
is  believed  that  Christ  knows  them,  that  he  knows 
them  as  individuals,  by  name,  in  all  their  personal 
peculiarities ;  that  he  feels  that  living  and  efficient 


234  THE   DEAD   CHRIST. 

sympathy  for  them  which  their  daily  necessities  re 
quire;  that  his  heart  yearns,  that  his  eye  follows 
them,  that  his  pity  enfolds  them. 

Christians  are  glad  of  a  Saviour  suffering  and  slain, 
because  through  this  experience  they  are  able  to  form 
a  conception  of  what  nature  is  in  Him  now.  And 
their  great  and  peculiar  need  is  a  Christ  who  knows 
all  their  weaknesses  of  disposition  without  feeling  dis 
gust;  who  knows  all  their  sins  without  bitterness; 
who  knows  their  faults  and  foibles  without  contempt ; 
who  knows  their  daily  practical  difficulties,  their 
cares,  their  family  troubles,  their  business  perplexi 
ties,  and  who  knows  just  how  all  these  things,  acting 
on  the  peculiar  temperament  which  each  possesses, 
hinders  his  piety,  mars  his  joy,  fills  him  with  doubts, 
and  afflicts  him  with  burdens. 

It  requires  no  great  stretch  of  faith  to  believe  that 
Christ  has  opened  up  a  way  to  save  those  who  come  to 
him  already  converted  out  of  their  sins.  But  to  come 
blushing  from  the  commission  of  some  sinful  thing, 
full  of  conscious  meanness,  and  half-despairing,  inas 
much  as,  a  hundred  times  before,  you  have  promised 
to  renounce  evil,  and  have  broken  the  promise ; — 
when  in  the  quick  and  stinging  confusion  of  shame 
and  grief  and  discouragement,  you  can  raise  up  the 
vision  of  a  merciful  Christ,  looking  intently  upon 
you,  and  saying,  "  Son,  now  above  all  other  times, 
come  to  me,  for  I  am  the  only  one  that  hath  the  pati 
ence  and  the  power  to  bring  thee  out  of  all  these  passes 
and  temptations ;"  this  it  is,  indeed,  to  have  a 
Living  Christ !  Do  we  enough  preach  a  Living  Christ? 
Do  we  not  stumble,  just  as  the  Horn  an  Catholic 


THE   DEAD    CHEIST.  235 

often  does,  by  laying  hold  of  the  earthly  form  of 
Christ,  the  life  and  symbols  of  his  love  ;  and  by 
endeavoring  to  extract  from  the  past,  that  which  the 
grave  shall  never  give,  nor  the  dark  past,  but  which 
shall  come,  if  at  all,  right  down  from  the  Living 
Heart  of  the  Companionable  Saviour,  who  though 
glorified  in  heaven,  is  none  the  less  the  earthly  Guide 
of  his  people  ? 

The  faults  of  preaching,  when  such  faults  exist,  are 
magnified  in  Christian  experience.  Few  persons  look 
up.  Many  look  back,  and  wonder  that  seeing  the 
place  where  Jesus  lay,  they  see  no  angels  there,  and 
hear  no  voice.  Their  Christ  is  the  Dead  Christ.  Some 
persons  long  for  a  tender  heart,  for  impassioned  expe 
rience,  for  more  earnest  love.  They  wander  in  Geth- 
semane.  They  linger  on  the  mount  beneath  the  olive 
trees.  They  shudder  upon  Calvary.  They  search  the 
garden  for  the  grave.  But  Gethsemane  that  once 
heard  the  groans,  now  hears  them  no  more.  The 
olives  yield  their  fruit,  but  no  Saviour  sits  beneath 
their  covering  shadows.  The  hill,  if  one  might  hear 
its  silent  voice,  would  cry  out  "  Here  He  was,  but  is 
no  longer."  The  grave  would  murmur,  "  Come  see 
where  He  lay — He  is  not  here,  He  is  arisen."  And 
all  the  scenes  of  the  past  have  now  but  one  office,  to 
instruct  us  how  to  imagine  and  to  lay  hold  of  a  Liv 
ing  and  a  Present  Saviour. 


AN    EXPOSITION. 

"  Whereby  are  given  unto  us  exceeding  great  and  precious  prom 
ises  :  that  by  these  ye  might  be  partakers  of  the  divine  nature,  hav 
ing  escaped  the  corruption  that  is  in  the  world  through  lust.  And 
besides  this,  giving  til  diligence,  add  to  your  faith  virtue  ;  and  to  vir 
tue,  knowledge;  and  to  knowledge,  temperance  ;  and  to  temperance, 
patience  ;  and  to  patience,  godliness ;  and  to  godliness,  brotherly 
kindness  ;  and  to  brotherly  kindness,  charity.  For  if  these  things  be 
in  you,  and  abound,  they  make  you  that  ye  shall  neither  be  barren  nor 
unfruitful  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  But  he  that, 
lacketh  these  things  is  blind,  and  cannot  see  afar  off,  and  hath  forgot 
ten  that  he  was  purged  from  his  old  sins.  Wherefore  the  rather, 
brethren,  give  diligence  to  make  your  calling  and  election  sure  :  for 
if  ye  do  these  things,  ye  shall  never  fall :  for  so  an  entrance  shall  be 
ministered  unto  you  abundantly  into  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  the 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ." — 2  PET.  i.  4-11. 

THIS  is  a  passage  keyed  to  the  note  of  encourage 
ment.  It  sets  forth  the  virtues  which  cost  us  most, 
but  which  we  are  most  easily  tempted  to  dispense 
with ;  and  shows  that  these  very  qualities  have  a 
special  relation  to  our  future  wealth  and  glory.  The 
line  of  thought  is  this — as  if  the  Christian  graces  pre 
sented  themselves  to  the  apostle's  mind  as  so  many 
golden  links  in  a  chain  or  necklace,  which  can  never 
have  too  many,  which  is  rich  and  valuable  not  alone 
by  the  quality  of  each  link  but  by  the  number  of  them 
— he  urges  us  to  add  one  to  the  other  in  consecutive 
order.  To  faith,  add  the  golden  link  of  virtue ;  to  vir 
tue,  knowledge ;  to  knowledge,  temperance ;  to  temper- 

236 


AN   EXPOSITION.  237 

ance,  patience ;  to  patience,  godliness ;  to  godliness, 
brotherly  kindness  ;  and  to  brotherly  kindness,  love. 
These  qualities  shall  make  the  life  blessed ;  that  is, 
truthful.  They  shall  not  be  like  ragged  and  weary 
pilgrims  in  a  barren  and  unfruitful  desert,  but  like 
men  that  walk  in  orchards  and  gardens,  with  abun 
dance  on  every  hand. 

But  besides  the  present  blessing,  the  apostle  enun 
ciates  the  blessed  truth  that  these  Virtues,  by  their 
number  and  richness,  will  have  a  determining  influ 
ence  upon  our  reception  into  heaven,  and  our  condi 
tion  there. 

The  force  of  this  statement  is  lost  in  our  common 
version,  because  there  are  no  latent  meanings  and 
associations  attached  to  the  English  words  such  as 
belong  to  the  original.  Among  the  ancient  customs 
of  Greece,  none  is  more  eminent  than  the  expressing 
good  will  to  society  by  providing  public  entertain 
ments.  These  are  to  be  distinguished  from  feasts. 
They  were  entertainments  or  spectacles,  exhibitions 
in  theatres  and  circuses,  magnificent  processions, 
public  adornments,  arches,  wreaths,  and  the  full 
wealth  of  music.  These  exhibitions  took  place  on 
memorable  days,  commemorative  of  public  events. 
They  celebrated  victories,  they  were  especially  pre 
pared  as  honors  for  public  benefactors:  and  when 
citizens  who  led  the  nation's  armies  returned  from 
war  victorious,  the  scale  of  the  entertainment  was 
commensurate  not  only  with  achievements  of  the  vic 
torious  general,  but  with  the  gladness  and  exhilara 
tion  of  the  public  mind. 


238  AN   EXPOSITION. 

Now,  the  preparing  of  these  entertainments  and 
receptions  was  not  the  business  of  the  government 
but  of  private  individuals. 

Rich  men,  who  desired  to  win  popularity,  were 
permitted  to  bear  the  expenses  of  them.  And  this 
was  a  kind  of  inferior  philanthropy.  Among  us 
men  build  hospitals,  found  libraries,  endow  colleges, 
establish  funds  for  various  charities.  But  such  things 
were  not  known  then.  And  these  popular  exhibi 
tions  stood  in  their  place,  as  the  way  in  which  rich 
men  expressed  generosity,  munificence  and  philan 
thropy.  And  as  these  entertainments  were  in  their 
nature  expensive,  so  they  grew  more  and  more  so,  by 
the  desire  of  men  to  rival  each  other,  each  one  endea 
voring  to  surpass  all  that  had  gone  before.  The  verb 
employed  here  is  epichoregethesetai  (ernxopriyedijoKTai,.) 
It  is  from  choregos,  (%op?'iyog)  a  choir-leader,  a  band 
leader.  Now  as  the  charge  of  these  enormous  choral 
exhibitions,  in  which  scenic  effects  were  added  to  the 
utmost  wealth  of  music,  was  the  means  by  which  men 
exhibited  their  liberality,  so,  in  time,  the  prodigality 
with  which  rich  men  did  spend  their  means  became 
proverbial;  and  it  introduced  a  new  word  into  the 
language ;  for  the  verb,  derived  from  x°P^7°^  came 
to  signify  lavish  abundance,  profusion  without  limit. 
Just  as  Epicurus  has  given  his  own  name  to  be  a  word 
of  force,  epicurean ;  so  this  name  chorcgos,  the  name 
of  a  class  of  men,  came  to  signify  that  which  these 
men  were  wont  to  do. 

It  is  not  a  little  remarkable  that  the  apostle  should 
have  selected  this  word.  It  is  one  of  those  flint 


AN   EXPOSITION.  239 

/rords,  which  being  struck,  flash  forth  with  a  hundred 
sparks  of  association. 

When  he  would  encourage  Christians  to  endure 
hardships,  and  to  persevere  in  all  virtues,  he  begins 
to  tell  them  how  blessed  it  would  make  them  here  ; 
and  then  glancing  forward,  and  beginning  to  speak 
of  the  effect  which  it  would  have  hereafter,  there  rose 
up  in  his  view  a  great  city,  like  Athens  in  the  days  of 
her  integrity ;  a  city  that  glowed  with  marbles  as  the 
north  glows  with  crystal  mountains ;  whose  temples 
glittered  on  every  street ;  and  from  whose  grand  por 
tals,  as  when  Alcibiades  or  Pericles  returned  from  vic 
tory,  the  whole  population  poured  out,  with  chaplets 
of  flowers  on  their  heads,  with  wreaths  in  their  hands, 
with  costly  sacrifices  led  by  white-robed  priests ;  with 
chanting  choirs  in  some  part  singing  peans ;  and  vast 
bands  of  instrumental  music  interluding,  or  carrying 
forward  the  patriotic  anthem  alone.  And,  with  this 
vision  before  him,  Peter  cries  out,  If  ye  do  these 
things  ye  shall  not  be  barren  even  here  ;  and  hereafter 
a  universal  choral  outbreak  from  the  city  of  God  shall 
meet  you.  And  you  shall  be  received  by  the  whole 
glorified  throng,  amid  every  demonstration  of  glad 
ness,  triumph,  and  honor.  All  this,  historically,  lay 
buried  up  in  the  word  enLxoprijeOriaETat. 

There  is  one  other  element  that  may  be  noted,  and 
that  is,  that  as  the  care  and  conduct  of  these  ancient 
public  receptions  were  allowed,  as  an  honor,  to  stand 
upon  the  wealth  and  generosity  of  some  public  bene 
factor,  so  the  apostle,  carrying  out  the  figure,  means 
to  say,  that  when  we  are  arriving  at  our  home  in 
heaven,  when  we  are  drawing  nigh  to  the  open  gates, 


240  AN   EXPOSITION. 

and  are  about  to  enter,  it  is  through  the  riches  of  the 
goodness  of  God  that  we  shall  not  go  in  unnoticed  or 
alone,  but  shall  be  met  and  greeted  by  a  great  and 
innumerable  company  whom  He  shall  bid  to  come 
out,  clad  in  the  white  robes  "which  the  saints  do 
wear,"  with  harps  in  their  hands,  and  with  songs  and 
salutations  of  joy  upon  their  lips,  to  conduct  us  in  tri 
umphal  procession  into  His  Throne,  that  so  aan 
abundant  entrance  may  be  ministered  unto  us."  This 
is  the  meaning  of  the  passage.  The  word  abundantly 
is  not  happy  in  its  function  here.  The  true  meaning 
is,  For  so  a  choral  and  processional  greeting  and 
entrance  shall  be  given  to  you,  by  the  goodness,  or 
wealth,  or  abundance  of  Jesus  Christ.  In  other 
words,  the  magnificence  and  costliness  of  the  recep 
tion  shall  be  according  to  the  wealth  of  Christ's 
heart. 

And  what  a  thought !  That  the  virtuous  lives,  the 
heroic  deeds  which  men  perform  on  earth,  are  not 
unheeded,  though  they  may  be  performed  in  obscur 
ity,  and  buried  in  the  consciousness  of  the  heart  of  the 
actor  ;  that  human  life  lies  open  to  the  inspection  of 
heaven ;  that  a  cloud  of  witnesses  behold  our  strife, 
our  defeat,  or  our  victory ;  that  though,  to  all  intents, 
we  may  be  far  off  from  heaven,  since  we  are  distant 
by  the  number  of  years  that  lie  between — by  the 
separation  of  time  rather  than  space — that  yet  heaven 
is  near  to  us ;  that  it  broods  us,  watches  us,  sympathizes 
with  us ;  that  though  the  holy  and  just  have  gone 
home  to  heaven,  they  are  not  separated  from  the 
struggling  company  on  earth ;  that  they  look  down 
upon  us  here,  beholding  our  journey  thither,  and 


Atf  EXPOSITION.  241 

await  our  arrival  that  they  may  greet  us  with  the 
surprise  of  triumphal  entrance !  This  is  the  grand 
idea  that  rose  before  the  mind  of  the  apostle,  which 
is  so  dimly  conveyed  in  our  imperfect  translation. 


II 


THE  EPISCOPAL  SERVICE. 

THE  Chivrchman  of  this  city  has  a  kind  notice 
of  some  remarks  made  by  us  in  the  Independent. 
We  are  anxious  that  our  parishioners  and  readers 
should  reap  what  benefit  they  can  from  reading  it, 
and  we  spread  it  before  them : 

"Among  the  miscellaneous  matter  of  the  present  number  [Feb. 
14th]  will  be  found  part  of  an  article  on  "  Churches  and  Pulpits," 
communicated  to  the  Independent  by  the  Rev.  Henry  Ward 
Beecher.  It  contains  much  that  is  sound  on  the  subject  of  the  place 
where  the  preacher  is  located,  and  the  description  of  box  in  which  he 
is  ordinarily  confined.  It  is  good  as  far  as  it  goes.  But  the  truth  is, 
that  in  the  early  Church  the  present  style  of  pulpit  was  unknown. 
Sermons  were  originally  delivered  from  the  steps  of  the  altar.  Bing- 
ham,  in  his  '  Antiquities  of  the  Christian  Church,'  tells  us  that  the  or 
dinary  place  of  preaching  was  the  altar.  While  quoting  from  Mr. 
Beecher,  it  may,  perhaps,  not  be  uninteresting  to  our  readers  to 
know  what  a  '  High  Puritan '  thinks  of  the  Choral  Service  of  the 
Church." 

The  Churchman  then  extracts  a  portion  of  a  let 
ter  from  Stratford-on-Avon,  published  in  the  Star 
Papers,  and  proceeds : 

"  It  is  gratifying  to  read  an  extract  so  entirely  commendable  as 
this.  We  trust  it  may  have  its  influence  on  Mr.  Beecher's  congrega 
tion.  It  would  certainly  be  a  perfectly  orthodox  proceeding  for  Mr. 
B.,  when  he  gets  into  his  new  church,  not  only  to  have  an  altar, 
from  the  steps  of  which  to  speak  to  the  people,  but  to  have  a  choir 
of  boys,  properly  surpliced,  to  make  the  responses  and  the  Amens  in 
the  service,  which,  of  course,  would  be  that  of  the  Episcopal  Church, 

242 


THE   EPISCOPAL   SEEVICE.  *  243 

of  which  Mr.  Beecher's  mother  is  said  to  have  been  an  exemplary  mem 
ber.  Congregational  churches  in  England  do  this ;  why  should  not 
Mr.  Beecher  ?  We  have  before  us  the  last  number  of  the  Musical 
Review  and  Gazette,  published  in  this  city,  which  contains  the  fol 
lowing  extract  from  the  private  correspondence  of  an  American  lady 
(the  daughter  of  a  New  England  clergyman)  now  absent  in  Europe. 
'  A  few  Sabbaths  ago  we  attended  service  at  Surrey  chapel,  the 
place  formerly  occupied  by  Kowland  Hill.  Kev.  Newman  Hall  is 
now  the  pastor,  an  interesting  preacher,  though  in  nothing  remark- 
ble.  Though  a  Congregational  church,  the  service  of  the  Church  of 
England  is  still  used,  and  is  chanted  by  the  whole  congregation  with 
so  much  taste,  fervor,  and  devotion,  that  it  is  really  heavenly.  If 
the  service  would  always  be  performed  in  such  a  manner,  I  should 
never  wish  for  any  other.  I  only  wish  you  could  hear  it.  I  find 
congregational  singing  is  everywhere  the  custom,  and  I  think  I  shall 
soon  become  so  fond  of  it  that  I  shall  not  enjoy  any  other.  It  does 
seem  much  more  hearty  and  much  more  devotional.'  If  the  service 
of  the  Church  of  England  is  deemed  sound  in  a  Congregational  church 
in  England,  why  would  not  the  service  of  the  Episcopal  Church  of 
this  country  be  equally  acceptable  and  'sound'  in  Mr.  Beecher's 
church  in  Brooklyn  ?" 

1.  We  have  never  had  a  doubt  as  to  the  excellence 
of  the  Episcopal  service  in  public  worship.  "We  do 
doubt  whether  the  constant  repetition  of  it  as  the  sole 
method  of  worship,  is  the  best  for  all.  But  we  are 
quite  willing  to  leave  that  to  the  judgment  and  ex 
perience  of  each  person  for  himself.  And  if,  on 
trial,  this  service  is  found  sufficient  for  their  religious 
wants,  not  only  would  we  not  dissuade  men  from  its 
use,  but  we  would  do  all  in  our  power  to  make  it 
more  useful  to  them.  And  this  we  say  without  res 
pect  to  persons.  Should  our  own  children  find  their 
religious  wants  better  met  in  the  service  of  the  Epis 
copal  Church  than  in  the  Plymouth  Congregational 
Church,  we  should  take  them  by  the  hand  and  lead 


244  THE  EPISCOPAL  SERVICE. 

them  to  its  altars,  and  commit  them  to  God's  grace, 
through  the  ministration  of  the  Episcopal  commun 
ion,  with  unhesitating  conviction  that  if  they  did  not 
profit  there,  it  would  be  their  own  fault ! 

"Whether  the  Episcopal  Church  is  one  that  builds 
up  men  in  holiness  is  not  an  open  question.  There 
are  too  many  saints  rejoicing  in  heaven,  and  too 
many  of  the  noblest  Christians  yet  laboring  on  earth, 
who  have  derived  their  religious  life  through  the 
teachings  and  offices  of  that  Church,  to  leave  any 
impartial  mind  in  any  doubt.  We  have  not  a  word 
of  controversy  with  Christian  men  who  accept  the 
service  of  that  Church  as  the  best  means  of  enriching 
their  faith. 

Nor  are  we  unmindful  of  the  debt  of  gratitude 
which  we,  and  the  whole  Christian  world,  owe  to  the 
scholars,  the  teachers,  the  divines,  and  the  bishops 
of  that  Church.  "Whatever  historic  faults  may  be 
raked  up  against  it,  we  firmly  believe  that  few 
bodies  of  Christian  men,  in  so  long  a  succession,  can 
look  back  upon  so  many  noble  Christian  teachers,  or 
so  much  fruit  of  Christian  living !  And  no  man  can 
excite  in  us  any  unpleasant  feeling  by  a  just  eulogy 
of  the  Episcopal  Christian  brotherhood.  Their 
merited  praise  brings  unalloyed  pleasure  to  us  :  and 
when,  in  prayer,  we  ask  God's  blessing  on  his 
Church  on  earth,  we  mean  that  Church  as  much  as 
our  own.  "We  mean  every  brotherhood  of  Christian 
men  who  are,  according  to  their  best  light,  worship 
ing  God  and  loving  men. 

2.  But,  now,  will  our  Christian  brethren  of  the 
Churchman  accord  to  us,  as  Christians  in  Congrega- 


THE  EPISCOPAL   SERVICE.  24:5 

tional  church-fellowship,  the  same  charity  and  liberty 
which  we  accord  to  them  ?  We  claim  that,  for  our 
selves  and  for  the  most  of  those  who  consort  with  us, 
our  method  of  Christian  worship  is  more  useful,  more 
edifying  and  therefore  better  than  any  other.  Not 
better  for  everybody,  but  better  for  us.  "While  we 
say  frankly  and  heartily  to  child,  friend,  or  parish 
ioner — "  If  Christ  is  revealed  to  you  better  by  the 
worship  and  service  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  do  not 
hesitate  or  fail  to  accept  it," — will  the  Churchman 
say  the  same  to  its  friends,  in  respect  to  the  Chris 
tian  service  and  worship  of  the  Congregational 
brotherhood  ? 

We  take  this  broad  ground,  that  every  man  is  at 
liberty  to  employ  whatever  form  of  religious  wor 
ship  is  best  adapted  to  develop  and  maintain  in  him 
the  true  Christian  life.  And  we  hold  that  each  man 
must  determine  this  for  himself;  and  that  when  it 
has  been  determined,  every  Christian  is  bound  con 
scientiously  to  respect  another's  conscience!  Let 
every  man  be  fully  convinced  in  his  own  mind. 

3.  As  to  the  altar,  we  agree  with  the  Churchman 
that  it  would  be  entirely  orthodox  to  have  an  "  altar  " 
in  the  new  church.  To  those  who  wish  them,  and 
who  can  make  them  serviceable,  there  is  no  reason 
in  our  day  why  they  should  be  denied.  So  might 
the  ark  of  the  covenant,  and  tables  of  shew-bread, 
and  the  high  priest's  breast-plate,  and  many  other 
things  of  a  symbolic  use,  be  employed.  But  is  it  a 
duty  to  have  an  altar?  Can  we  not  offer  service, 
without  these  symbols,  acceptably  to  God?  If  an 
education  makes  them  a  hindrance  and  not  a  help, 


246  THE  EPISCOPAL   SERVICE. 

are  we  to  have  them  intruded  upon  us  as  necessary 
parts  of  worship  ? 

"We  believe  in  Christ  as  a  sacrifice,  once  offered 
up  for  all  and  forever.  We  need  no  visible  altar 
upon  which  to  lay  our  invisible  sacrifice.  Faith  is 
to  us  better  than  sight  by  means  of  symbols. 

As  to  "  surpliced  boys  " — we  have  them  already. 
The  whole  congregation  is  a  choir,  and  our  boys, 
bright  and  happy,  unite  and  respond  with  their  elders. 
The  surplice  which  they  wear  is  just  that  thing 
which  their  dear  mothers  threw  over  them  when 
they  left  home.  And  angels'  hands  could  do  no 
more  than  mothers'  hands  do  for  darling  children ! 

And  now,  in  respect  to  this  whole  matter,  WQ 
accord  to  our  Episcopal  brethren  everything  that 
they  can  ask,  except  the  right  of  making  their  lib 
erty  our  law.  "When  we  are  satisfied  that  their 
service  and  method  are  better  adapted  to  us  than 
our  own,  and  more  certain  to  promote  piety,  we  shall 
unhesitatingly  adopt  them ;  but  so  long  as  we  believe, 
under  the  circumstances,  that  our  method  of  worship 
is  better  for  us  than  any  other,  which  shall  we  fol 
low — the  judgment  of  other  men  in  our  behalf,  or 
our  own  judgment  ? 


CONGREGATIONAL   LITUKGY. 

THE  discussion  of  the  question  of  Liturgies  in  Con 
gregational  churches  is  sufficiently  novel  to  attract 
general  attention.  It  ought  not  to  be  supposed,  how 
ever,  that  this  is  a  discussion  which  has  arisen  upon 
foregone  facts.  It  has  been  begun  for  the  sake  of  pro 
ducing  facts. 

If  any  church,  or  churches,  had  gone  forward  in 
the  exercise  of  their  own  rights,  to  frame  a  liturgy 
and  to  employ  it ;  if  it  had  been  said  that  such 
church  or  churches  had  no  right  to  do  so ;  and  if  ' 
this  discussion  were  in  the  nature  of  an  examination 
of  such  churches  on  the  one  hand,  and  a  defence  of 
them  on  the  other,  we  need  not  say  on  which  side  we 
should  stand.  Every  true  church  has  the  right  to 
determine  the  method  of  conducting  its  own  public 
worship.  If  they  are  satisfied  with  their  own  ser 
vices,  no  one  has  a  right  to  call  them  to  account. 
But,  in  such  cases,  no  one  is  bound  to  feel  an  interest 
in  them,  in  spite  of  his  own  taste.  If  one  church 
loves  a  liturgy,  the  neighboring  church  is  not  bound 
to  love  it,  nor  to  relish  the  use  of  it,  nor  maintain  that 
fellowship  which  can  stand  only  in  common  sympa 
thies. 

The  use  of  a  liturgy,  then,  ought  not  to  work 
ecclesiastical  disfellowship.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  is  no  cause  of  complaint  if  it  does  morally  and 
socially  alienate  brethren  of  coordinate  churches 
from  sympathy  and  cooperation  in  worship. 

247 


24:8  CONGEEGATIONAL   LITTIEGY. 

But  the  case,  at  present,  is  far  less  serious  than  this. 
All  that  has  been  done,  so  far  as  the  public  know,  is 
this :  Some  Christian  brethren  suspect  that  a  great 
advantage  would  often  accrue  to  Congregational 
churches  if  a  change  were  to  take  place,  by  which 
the  whole  body  of  worshippers  were  made  to  take  a 
more  active  part  in  the  public  services;  and  they 
believe  that  certain  fixed  forms  of  worship,  to  be  used 
by  the  whole  congregation  in  common,  or  respon- 
sively,  would  do  much  toward  enlisting  a  more 
active  participation  of  the  whole  people  in  public 
worship. 

"We  certainly  think  that  much  needs  to  be  done  to 
inspire  the  services  of  our  churches  with  more 
interest ;  and  that,  in  some  way,  the  whole  congrega 
tion  should  become  cooperative  in  public  worship. 

But  we  are  clearly  of  opinion  that  a  liturgy  in 
whole  or  in  part,  will  be  of  very  little  service.  The 
trouble  in  our  churches  is  the  want  of  vital  Christian 
feeling.  A  liturgy  will  not  produce  that. 

We  do  not  think  it  needful  to  discuss  the  merits  oi 
liturgies.  They  are,  under  some  circumstances,  use 
ful.  But  they  belong  to  a  system  of  helps  which  the 
whole  history  and  spirit  of  Congregationalism  dis 
owns.  And  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  Congre 
gational  churches  will  change  the  whole  spirit  of  their 
economy  for  any  slender  advantages  which  may  be 
supposed  to  linger  within  fixed  and  prescribed  forms 
of  worship.  For  our  own  part,  if  we  were  ready  for 
a  full  liturgy,  we  should  prefer  the  Episcopal,  which 
has  the  extrinsic  merits  of  age  and  long  usage,  and 
various  historic  associations.  But  it  is  not  proposed 


CONGREGATIONAL   LITUKGY.  249 

to  adopt  a  full  liturgy.  It  is  not,  we  believe,  pro 
posed  to  advocate  a  common  and  general  form.  A 
mixed  service,  in  part  liturgical  and  in  part  extempo 
raneous,  it  is  thought,  would  be  serviceable  in  some 
single  churches. 

We  have  no  objection  to  the  trial  by  any  church 
that  chooses  to  do  it.  But  we  are  sure  that  the 
experiment  will  fail.  The  free  element  will  overrun 
the  fixed  forms  and  choke  them ;  or  else,  if  the  forms 
are  clung  to,  they  will  expel  the  extemporaneous  ele 
ments,  and  end  in  drawing  the  church  over  to  a  full 
liturgical  service.  But  both  of  these  elements,  the 
movable  and  the  fixed,  the  voluntary  and  the  pre 
scribed,  the  extemporaneous  and  the  formal,  can  not 
coexist.  The  one  will  kill  the  other. 

The  experiment  is  not  new.  Several  denomina 
tions  have  already  tried  it,  the  Moravians  and  the 
Methodists  being  of  the  number.  But  of  what 
degree  of  benefit  in  the  Methodist  Episcopal  service, 
is  the  partial  liturgy  which  is  in  the  Book  ?  Not 
half  of  their  people  know  that  there  is  such  a  thing. 
It  is  not  compulsory.  It  is  interpolated  by  extempo 
raneous  offices  of  devotion ;  and  the  result  has  been 
that  the  forms  stand  empty  and  soulless,  while  the 
life  and  power  of  the  Methodist  worship  lies  in  the 
extemporaneous  fervor  of  minister  and  people. 

"We  think  that  this  would  be  the  case  still  more 
among  Congregational  churches.  And  one  or  two 
things  would,  in  time,  happen.  Either  the  liturgy 
would  wither  and  hang  upon  the  service  like  a  last 
year's  dried  blossom  dangling  upon  the  vine,  or  those 
churches  which  retained  liturgies  with  benefit,  would 

11* 


250  CONGREGATIONAL   LITURGY. 

shrink  away  wholly  from  extemporaneous  services. 
In  this  last  case,  a  gradual  division  would  take  place, 
and  some  Congregational  churches  would  be  wholly 
liturgical,  and  some  anti-liturgical ;  and  two  effectual 
policies  of  worship  would  soon  strike  division  through 
the  brotherhood  of  churches. 

There  need  not,  however,  be  the  least  excitement 
about  this  matter.  No  one  need  to  fear  that  the  old 
Congregational  churches  are  in  danger  of  flying  off 
like  a  flock  of  birds  into  new  trees.  The  old  Congre 
gational  churches  are  not  in  danger  of  accepting  an 
innovation  against  which  they  have  educated  instincts 
and  hereditary  historic  prejudices  as  high  as  the  walls 
of  Jerusalem. 

Here,  then,  we  stand.  A  great  want  exists  in  our 
worship.  Half  liturgies  will  never  remedy  that 
want,  and  whole  liturgies  are  just  as  bad.  But, 
good  or  bad,  the  churches  will  never  accept  them. 
It  seems  to  us,  then,  a  waste  of  time  to  attempt  feeble 
and  uncongenial  expedients.  The  stately  simplicity 
of  Congregational  worship  resents  all  patches  and 
incongruous  interpolations.  We  must  abandon  the 
whole  method,  and  go  over  in  a  body  to  real,  earnest, 
thorough  liturgical  services  ;  or  we  must  accept  the 
Congregational  idea  of  extemporaneous  worship  in 
all  its  fullness,  and  seek  a  remedy  for  lifelessness  in  a 
more  hearty  use  and  proof  of  our  own  system.  Any 
cross  between  Congregational  worship  and  liturgy 
will  be  mongrel,  and  can  neither  live  with  health 
nor  propagate  itself  at  all. 

If  then,  it  is  said,  that  our  public  services  are  bar 
ren,  we  reply,  they  are.  But  not  for  want  of  common 


CONGREGATIONAL   LITURGY.  251 

forms  of  devotion ;  for,  churches  which  employ  these 
forms,  with  every  conceivable  means  of  making  them 
effectual,  are  just  as  meagre  as  ours.  Indeed,  if  the 
Methodist,  the  Baptist,  the  Presbyterian  and  the 
Congregational  churches  be  taken  together,  as  having 
practically  an  extemporaneous  service,  and  the  Epis 
copal  Church  be  regarded  as  liturgical,  we  are  not 
unwilling  to  have  a  comparison  made  between  the 
two  methods  of  worship,  in  the  very  respect  of  pro 
ducing  a  common  feeling  of  devotion  in  the  whole 
congregation. 

If  any  single  church — having  tried  the  simplicity 
of  Congregational  worship  and  failed,  or,  not  having 
failed — yet,  if  from  some  peculiarity  of  the  congre 
gation — some  decided  predilection  for  prescribed  ser 
vices — if  such  a  church  believes  that  it  can  do  better 
by  half  liturgical  worship  than  by  our  usual  methods 
— then  we  would  not  put  a  straw  in  their  way.  We 
would  say,  Go  on ;  make  your  experiment.  And 
when  enough  time  has  elapsed  to  form  a  ripe  judg 
ment  of  the  result,  we  will  accept  the  trial  for  what 
it  shall  have  proved  itself  worth. 

But  it  does  not  seem  to  us  well  to  urge  such  a 
course  upon  the  Congregational  churches  before  any 
trial  has  been  made.  We  do  not  think  it  needful  to 
ask  hundreds  of  churches  to  embark  in  an  enterprise 
which  must  be  regarded,  even  by  its  warmest  advo 
cates,  as  but  an  experiment. 

Some  who  plead  for  an  addition  to  the  old  Puritan 
customs  of  public  worship,  do  so  because  they 
believe  the  present  methods  to  be  very  fruitless  and 
meagre.  It  is  said  that  the  services  of  the  Sabbath- 


252  CONGREGATIONAL   LITURGY. 

day,  in  the  church,  are  barren,  and  especially  defi 
cient  in  this,  that  the  congregation,  as  such,  bear  no 
sufficient  part.  They  are  sung  for,  prayed  for,  and 
preached  to ;  but  they  themselves  have  nothing  to 
do.  They  are  literally  an  audience;  they  are 
hearers.  They  are  not  participants  but  recipients. 
It  is  thought  that  forms  of  prayer,  recitations  of 
Scripture,  and  responsive  utterances,  would  go  far 
toward  producing  in  the  whole  congregation  a  com 
mon  interest  in  the  religious  worship,  by  making  the 
whole  to  bear  a  part. 

So  earnest  are  we  that  the  whole  people  should 
unite  in  public  worship,  that,  if  there  were  no  better 
way,  we  should  certainly  advocate  a  liturgy.  But 
we  do  not  think  that  we  have  to  go  a  step  out  of  our 
own  system  to  find  means  for  arousing  and  thoroughly 
developing  the  religious  feelings  of  the  whole  con 
gregation  in  public  worship. 

The  fundamental  idea  of  Koman  Catholic  worship 
is,  that  the  priest  and  the  ordinances  are  depositories 
of  Divine  grace — that  the  people  are  simply  recipi 
ents. 

Protestant  Christianity  makes  Christ  the  soul-foun 
tain,  and  each  individual  Christian  is  his  own  priest. 
A  Catholic  church  has  its  public  service  adminis 
tered  by  its  priests ;  a  Protestant  church  has  its 
service  administered  by  its  priests — which  are  THE 
PEOPLE. 

The  social  religious  element  is  the  distinctive  pecu 
liarity  of  Protestant  Christianity.  Our  churches  will 
never  fulfill  their  own  social  idea  of  public  worship, 
until  it  becomes  the  joint  act  of  the  whole  congrega- 


CONGREGATIONAL  LITURGY.  253 

tion.  Not  the  separate  worship  of  individuals  sitting 
together,  but  the  mingling  and  harmonizing  of  the 
individual  devotion  of  the  whole  congregation. 

The  preaching  meetings  of  our  churches  on  the 
Sabbath  day,  do  not  represent  our  whole  idea  of  the 
worship  of  Protestant  churches.  The  prayer-meet 
ings,  the  conference-meetings,  the  Bible-classes  and 
Sabbath-schools — these,  together  with  the  Sabbath 
services,  are  to  be  regarded  as  composing  the  wor 
ship.  We  are  to  look  for  the  full  expression  of  our 
peculiar  ideas,  not  in  that  part  which  the  Sabbath 
day  and  the  public  assembly  affords,  but  in  all  that 
the  church  does  in  its  minor  meetings.  And  it  will  be 
found  that  any  well-instructed  and  rightly-trained 
church  is  a  body  whose  power  resides  in  its  whole 
membership  ;  that  its  worship  is  ministered  to  it  by 
its  own  members  ;  and  that  the  legitimate  end  of  the 
ordained  ministry  is  to  evolve  a  social  religious  minis 
tering  power  in  the  congregation. 

We  may  now  suggest  some  reasons  why  our 
churches  do  not  to  a  greater  degree  fulfill  their 
design : 

1.  One  of  the  most  obvious  reasons  is,  that  minis 
ters  of  the  Gospel  have  not  a  clear  and  proper  idea 
of  their  functions.  They  know  generally  that  they 
are  to  preach  to  the  community,  and  that  they  are  to 
edify  the  church.  But  to  be  a  preacher  of  sermons, 
a  mere  teacher  in  the  pulpit,  is  not  half  a  minister's 
work.  He  is  set  to  drill  a  body  of  Christian  men,  so 
that  they  shall  individually  and  collectively  be  a 
witnessing  and  ministering  body.  The  voice  of  the 
whole  church,  and  not  the  voice  of  its  ministry,  is 


,254:  CONGREGATIONAL    LITTJEGY. 

that  which.  God  appointed  for  the  preaching  of  the 
Gospel.  If  now  a  minister  only  preaches — and  so 
preaches  that  his  brethren  wish  to  hear  no  one  speak 
but  himself — if,  instead  of  inspiring  life-power  in 
them,  which  he  then  guides  and  trains  them  to  fitly 
express,  he  extinguishes  their  zeal,  and  fashions  a 
public  sentiment  so  rigid  and  exacting  that  no  man 
in  the  church  dare  utter  his  feelings,  his  thoughts,  or 
his  experiences,  unless  he  can  do  it  for  edification, 
(i.  e.,  do  it  in  rhetorical  fluency,  with  logical  precision, 
and  with  a  certain  finish  of  literary  good-breeding), 
he  defeats  the  very  end  of  his  ministry,  and  practically 
disowns  the  Congregational  idea  of  a  minister. 

Thus  we-  see  that  many  churches  are  nothing  but 
listeners  to  a  preacher.  The  society  has  an  organic 
life  and  function ;  but  the  church,  in  such  cases,  is 
but  little  better  than  a  roll  of  names  of  persons  bap 
tized,  initiated,  permitted  to  partake  of  the  Lord's 
Supper,  and  expected  to  enjoy  a  good  sermon.  But 
to  have  a  real  life  and  function  of  their  own,  to  have 
a  social,  loving  atmosphere  into  which  each  one 
develops  the  blossoms  of  his  religious  life,  to  be  a 
body  competent  to  edify  itself,  to  build  itself  up,  and 
to  stand,  by  its  own  vital  power,  as  a  multiform 
instruction  in  the  community — such  an  idea  is 
scarcely  thought  of.  And  hence  it  is  that  ministers 
come  to  be  mere  instructors.  They  do  not  edu 
cate.  They  do  not  train.  They  are  not  seeking 
to  develop  the  gifts  of  the  individual  members  of  the 
church — to  drill  them  in  the  suitable  exercise  of 
those  gifts.  They  seek  to  do  good  to  their  flock  as 
individual  Christian  men.  But  they  do  not  group 


CONGREGATIONAL   LITURGY.  255 

these  individual  Christian  men  into  a  community  in 
such  a  way  that  they  give  utterance  as  a  church,  by 
their  own  voices,  to  the  truth  of  Christ,  or  to  their 
experience  of  God's  guidance  and  goodness.  So  that 
the  church  is  not  an  epitome  of  God's  multitudinous 
teachings ;  it  is  not  the  harmony  of  all  the  voices 
with  which  Christ  speaks  to  the  souls  of  his  children. 
It  is  a  mere  class,  coming  together  to  hear  what  a 
teacher  shall  say  to  them,  and  then  going  away  and 
profiting  as  best  they  may.  ISTow  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel  should  be  a  preacher  of  ideas,  of  the  connec 
tion  of  ideas  (which  is  theology) ;  he  should  be  a 
teacher  of  duties,  i.  e.,  he  should  apply  principles  to 
the  experiences  of  life — he  should  strengthen,  com 
fort,  inspire,  and  warn  his  people ;  but  all  these 
things  should  be  but  a  part  of  a  system  of  drill,  by 
which  the  whole  church  shall  become  in  like  man 
ner  a  teaching  body.  He  is  to  see  that  his  members 
are  taught  to  pray — to  pray  with  each  other ;  to  speak 
— to  speak  to  edification.  He  is  to  develop  the  gifts 
of  each  in  such  a  way  as  that  the  whole  church  shall 
have  the  benefit.  One  man  is  fitly  a  thinker ;  another 
man  is  a  man  of  observation  and  experience.  One 
has  zeal  and  native  power ;  another  has  richness  of 
heart  and  blessed  simplicity.  One  has  courage,  an 
other  has  the  power  of  consolation ;  one  is  powerful 
in  prayer,  another  in  conversation.  It  is  the  duty  of 
the  minister  to  bring  forth  these  gifts  and  make  them 
the  property  of  the  whole  church.  A  church  has  a 
right  to  the  gifts  of  every  one  of  its  members,  and  the 
minister  is  set  to  disclose  and  develop  them.  He  is 
not  to  lean  upon  the  strong  ;  to  avail  himself  of  the 


256  CONGEEGATIONAL   LITURGY 

service  of  those  already  developed.  It  is  his  office  to 
take  hold  of  every  individual  man,  and  to  educate 
him,  so  that  he  may  bring  forth  the  one,  or  five,  or 
ten  talents  which  are  committed  to  him,  for  the  use 
and  profit  of  all  his  brethren. 

A  man  of  books,  a  man  of  ideas,  a  man  of  sermons, 
is  not  Christ's  idea  of  a  minister.  Follow  me,  and  I 
will  make  you  fishers  of  men.  A  minister  is  a  man 
of  men.  He  is  an  inspirer  and  driller  of  men. 

Is  it  a  marvel  that  churches  take  little  part  in 
public  exercises?  They  are  not  expected  to  do  it. 
The  minister  does  not  expect  it.  It  is  not  for  that 
that  he  preaches.  He  is  a  sermon-preacher,  not  a 
church-trainer.  The  people  understand  it  so ;  they 
go  to  church  to  have  him  pray  for  them.  He  is  to 
preach  to  them ;  he  is  to  visit  the  sick,  bury  the  dead, 
marry  the  affianced,  baptize  the  children,  live  in  a 
social  relationship  to  a  round  of  families,  preach 
twice  on  the  Sabbath,  keep  the  church  free  from 
speculative  heresies.  But  the  power  that  lies  in  so 
many  hearts  dormant,  the  united  power  of  such  a  body 
of  witnesses  as  the  church  would  be  if  it  had  a  real 
voice,  if  it  rose  up  and  spoke,  week  by*  week,  to  the 
people — that  is  scarcely  dreamed  of. 

Now,  the  church  ought  to  be  a  hundred  times 
stronger  than  the  minister.  The  pews  ought  to  have 
more  power  than  the  pulpit.  ~No  minister  has  done 
his  duty  who  is  himself  the  central  power  in  a  con 
gregation.  He  is  to  be  a  power-producer;  he  is  to 
see  the  success  of  his  ministry  in  the  church  which 
he  builds  up.  And  as  the  architect  stands  dwarfed 
and  trembling  in  the  presence  of  the  cathedral  which 


CONGREGATIONAL   LITURGY.  257 

he  has  himself  builded,  when  all  its  walls  and  col 
umns  have  gone  up,  and  all  its  arches  are  completed, 
and  all  its  pinnacles  and  spires  lift  up  their  heads  to 
God  everlastingly — so  a  pastor  should  stand  in  a  vast 
disproportion  of  strength  before  the  fullness  of  the 
power  of  his  own  church.  For,  can  any  one  heart, 
either  by  original  gift  or  by  study,  ever  equal  all  the 
gifts  which  God  bestows  upon  a  hundred  men  ?  Is 
not  all  the  work  of  Christ  in  a  hundred  souls  more 
rich  and  wonderful  than  ever  can  be  a  single  indi 
vidual's  experience?  Is  there  one  flower  created 
equal  to  a  whole  prairie  or  garden,  sheeted  with  the 
light  and  perfumed  with  the  fragrance  of  a  hundred 
flowers  growing  in  profusion  ? 

God's  work  in  the  human  soul,  day  by  day,  is  the 
most  illustrious  of  all  the  events  which  history  chron 
icles.  Other  events  are  more  obvious,  and  more 
impressive  to  our  vulgar  senses,  that  love  the  flash 
and .  sound  of  physical  deeds.  But  the  watch- 
ings,  the  fears  translated  to  victory,  the  faith  and 
glow  of  love,  the  aspirations  and  achievements,  the 
visions  of  heaven,  the  peace  of  God  descending  thence 
— there  are  no  other  things  of  such  dignity  as  these, 
nor,  when  simply  uttered,  of  such  power.  Indeed, 
the  supremest  power  of  Divine  truth  is  not  when  it  is 
uttered  in  idea-form,  or  as  apprehended  by  intellect, 
but  when  exhibited  in  heart-forms,  or  as  it  is  evolved 
in  actual  life-experiences.  And  there  is  something 
sublime  in  the  conception  of  a  great  assembly  of  men 
— holding  forth  some  one  truth,  first  by  the  voice  of 
*  its  teacher,  and  then  reflecting  upon  it  from  a  hun 
dred  hearts  that  light  by  which  God  taught  it  pecu 


258  CONGREGATIONAL   LITUKGY. 

liarlj  to  them ;  so  that  at  length  each  should  behold 
the  glowing  truth,  not  in  the  narrow  line  of  his  own 
experience,  but  in  the  clustered  fullness  of  the  experi 
ence  of  multitudes.  Such  preaching  by  the  voice  of 
the  whole  church  would  have  a  power  with  the  com 
munity  of  which  now  we  have  no  idea  except  from 
analogies.  Let  a  hundred  merchants  and  eminent 
mechanics — known  and  trusted  men — gather  in  some 
vast  hall  in  ISTew  York,  and  testify  in  regard  to  some 
new  method  of  gaining  wealth.  Let  them,  one  by  one, 
declare  the  reality  of  the  riches,  exhibit  his  own  win 
nings,  declare  the  facility  with  which  thousands  more 
could  acquire,  and  that  joint  testimony  of  a  hundred 
honest  men  would  strike  a  fever  through  a  city  in  a 
day,  and  the  veins  and  arteries  of  every  occupation 
would  throb  with  impatient  desire.  Such  is  the 
power  given  to  a  truth  when  many  men,  corroborat 
ing  it,  give  it  a  blessed  panic-power.  A  truth  borne 
forth  upon  the  power  of  a  single  heart  is  great ;  but 
what  when  it  is  sent  forth  upon  the  blasts  of  a  thou 
sand  hearts  ?  We  have  made  proof  of  truth-power 
only  in  narrow  lines.  There  is  to  be  a  development, 
of  which  we  suspect  little,  of  the  power  of  truth  swept 
along  the  tide  of  enthusiasm  which  sympathetic  mul 
titudes  give.  Conversions,  then,  will  be  like  light 
ning  strokes.  For  it  is  not  enough  for  a  man  to  have 
an  idea  of  truth — he  needs  to  have  a  moral  shock,  a 
soul-stroke,  that  shall  electrify  his  being,  and  give 
to  the  truth  instantaneous  and  overwhelming  power. 
This  enthusiasm  comes  from  God.  Like  other  gifts, 
it  comes  instrumentally.  The  simultaneous  preach- 


CONGREGATIONAL  LITURGY.  259 

ing  of  the  Gospel  by  communities  will  be  an  instru 
ment  of  such  results. 

The  first  step,  then,  toward  a  larger  participation 
on  the  part  of  the  congregation  in  public  worship  is 
to  begin  in  the  minister's  own  heart  and  design. 
And  so  superficial  a  thing  as  a  common  form  of 
prayer,  or  a  joint  confession,  or  a  psalmic  response, 
will  not  train  a  church.  There  must  be  a  common 
life  in  the  church.  It  must  be  a  minister's  concep 
tion  of  his  office  and  function,  not  merely  to  impart 
ideas  ;  but  by  an  impartation  of  ideas,  and  feeling,  and 
personal  social  influence,  to  impart  a  real,  COMMON  reli 
gious  life  to  the  church.  "When  that  exists,  there  will 
be  no  more  trouble  about  unity  and  interest  in  a  con 
gregation.  They  will  be  like  a  rich  soil  full  of  roots 
and  seeds,  that  shoot  up  in  exuberant  richness,  and 
though  differing  through  genus  and  species,  yet  grow 
ing  in  perfect  harmony.  But  a  dead  church  with  a 
liturgy  on  the  top  of  it  is  like  a  sand  desert  covered 
with  artificial  bouquets.  It  is  bright  for  the  moment. 
But  it  is  fictitious  and  fruitless.  There  are  no  roots 
to  the  flowers.  There  is  no  soil  for  roots.  The 
utmost  that  a  liturgy  can  do  upon  the  chilly  bosom 
of  an  undeveloped,  untrained  church  is,  to  cover  its 
nakedness  with  a  faint  shadow  of  what  they  fain 
have,  but  cannot  get. 


OHUKOHES  AND  OKGANS, 

WHEN  a  church  is  to  be  built,  the  question  usually 
is  from  the  outside  to  the  inside,  and  not  from  inside 
to  out.  It  is  not  said,  "  Here  are  a  thousand  people ; 
in  our  system  of  worship  the  effects  to  be  produced 
require  such  and  such  conditions  for  the  congrega 
tion,  and  the  church  building  must  go  up  around 
these  uses  and  be  but  an  instrument  of  them."  It  is 
much  "more  often  the  case  that  the  question  takes 
this  form  :  "  Where  shall  we  put  it  ?  In  what  style 
shall  it  be  built  ?  "Who  shall  be  the  architect  ?  How 
high  shall  the  steeple  be,  and  how  fine  can  we  afford 
to  make  the  interior  ?"  Then,  when  these  questions 
are  settled,  it  is  also,  incidentally,  a  matter  of  con 
sideration  how  to  seat  the  people,  and  whether  the 
building  can  be  made  available  for  hearing.  As  to 
the  pulpit,  but  one  thing  is  usually  considered  neces 
sary,  and  that  is,  that  it  should  be  put  as  far  as  possir 
ble  from  all  sympathetic  contact  with  the  people  to 
be  influenced  by  it;  that  it  should  be  so  constructed 
as  to  take  away  from  the  speaker,  as  far  as  it  can  be 
done,  every  chance  of  exerting  any  influence  upon 
those  whom  he  addresses.  Therefore  the  pulpit  is 
ribbed  up  on  the  sides,  set  back  against  the  wall, 
where  it  looks  like  a  barn-swallow's  nest  plastered  on 
some  beam.  In  this  way  the  minister  is  as  much  as 
possible  kept  out  of  the  way  of  the  people,  and  all 

260 


CHURCHES  AND  OEGANS.  261 

that  is  left  is  his  voice.  Posture,  free  gesture,  motion, 
advance  or  retreat,  and  that  most  effective  of  all  ges 
tures,  the  full  form  of  an  earnest  man,  from  head 
to  foot,  right  before  the  people ;  in  short,  the  whole 
advantage  which  the  body  gives  when  thrown  into 
argument  or  persuasion,  are  lost  without  any  equiva 
lent  gain.  In  this  sacred  mahogany  tub  or  rectan 
gular  box,  the  man  learns  every  kind  of  hidden 
awkwardness.  He  stands  on  one  leg  and  crooks  the 
other,  like  a  slumbering  horse  at  a  hitching-post ;  he 
leans  now  on  one  side  of  the  cushion,  or  lolls  on  the 
other  side.  And  when  a  man,  thoroughly  trained  by 
one  of  these  dungeon  pulpits  to  regard  his  legs  and 
feet  as  superfluous,  except  in  some  awkward  and 
uncouth  way  to  crutch  him  up  to  the  level  of  his 
cushion  and  paper,  is  brought  out  upon  an  open  plat 
form,  it  is  amusing  to  watch  the  inconvenience  to 
him  of  having  legs  at  all,  and  his  various  experiments 
and  blushing  considerations  of  what  he  shall  do  with 
them! 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  so  little  is  done  by  preaching, 
when,  in  a  great  church,  with  a  small  congregation, 
so  scattered  that  no  two  persons  touch  each  other,  the 
bust  of  a  man,  peering  above  a  bulwark,  reads  a  stale 
manuscript  to  people  the  nearest  of  whom  is  not  less 
than  twenty-five  feet  from  him  ?  The  wonder  is  that 
anything  is  ever  accomplished.  Daniel  Webster  is  re 
ported  to  have  said,  that  no  lawyer  would  risk  his  re 
putation  before  a  jury  if  he  had  to  speak  from  a  pulpit, 
and  that  he  considered  the  survival  of  Christianity  in 
spite  of  pulpits  as  one  of  the  evidences  of  its  divinity. 


262  CHUKCHES  AND  ORGANS. 

We  do  not  vouch  for  the  truth  of  this  as  an  anecdote, 
but  we  indorse  it  as  a  truth  in  philosophy. 

Next  comes  the  question,  shall  we  have  an  organ  ? 
"What  do  they  want  an  organ  for  ?  We  suspect  that 
it  would  be  difficult  for  the  most  part  of  the  congre 
gation  to  say,  unless  it  were  that  other  fashionable 
churches  had  organs ;  or,  that  it  formed  a  cheerful 
and  pleasant  interlude  to  the  tediousness  of  other 
parts  of  worship. 

But,  Young  America  means  to  have  an  Organ! 
And  the  question  is  not,  how  large  a  one  is  needed ; 
but,  how  large  a  sum  can  be  raised  to  buy  it.  If  an 
organ  of  ten  stops  is  good,  it  is  innocently  reasoned, 
an  organ  of  twenty  would  be  twice  as  good.  As  soon 
as  it  is  known  that  an  organ  is  to  be  built,  down 
come  the  agents  of  various  organ  establishments,  each 
one  proving  all  the  rest  to  be  mere  pretenders,  and 
their  work  trash.  Then  comes  bidding  and  underbid 
ding.  The  builder  that  will  give  the  most  for  the 
money  is  to  have  the  job.  One  will,  for  the  said 
number  of  dollars,  give  fifteen  stops,  another  twenty, 
another  twenty-five,  and  so  he  gets  the  organ.  Now, 
a  stop,  in  the  understanding  of  a  church  committee,  is 
a  small  piece  of  wood  sticking  out  of  the  organ  by 
the  side  of  the  manuals,  with  a  piece  of  ivory  on  the 
end  of  it,  with  some  name  cut  and  blacked  in,  as 
"  Pedal,"  "  Coupler,  Swell,  and  Choir,"  "  Op.  Diap 
ason,"  "  St.  Diapason,"  etc.  Of  course  a  skillful 
builder  can  easily  multiply  stops  fast  enough,  if  the 
church  committee  are  only  ignorant  enough.  To  cut 
a  stop  in  two,  and  give  two  registers  to  it,  makes  two 
out  of  one  in  a  manner  very  inexpensive  to  the 


CHURCHES   AND   ORGANS. 

builder,  and  quite  satisfactory  to  most  church  com 
mittees.  Or,  to  let  a  stop  run  only  half  way  through 
the  organ,  speaking  only  either  in  the  upper  or  the 
lower  half;  or  better  yet,  to  let  stops  run  in  separate 
pipes  through  half  the  organ  and  then  flow  together 
into  one  series  of  pipes  for  the  bass,  so  that,  like  a 
river,  many  small  streams  meet  and  go  out  to  sea  in 
one  channel — these  and  many  other  methods  enable 
a  skillful  organ-builder  to  gratify  the  vanity  of  a 
church  and  the  solidity  of  his  own  pocket  at  the  same 
time. 

But,  when  the  organ  is  bought,  put  up,  paid  for, 
then  comes  the  tug  of  war.  "What  is  an  organ  good 
for,  at  any  rate  ?  To  what  end  is  it  put  into  the 
church  ?  Can  any  one  tell  us  ?  Or,  must  we  come 
back  to  the  subject,  and  give  our  own  notions  ? 


PATKIOTISM    AND    LIBERTY* 

ler  any  other  place,  fellow-citizens,  I  should  have 
claimed  for  myself  to-day  personal  liberty  and 
exemption  from  public  service,  but  from  my  own 
city  I  can  claim  no  such  exemption,  since  I  believe 
that  every  man  ought  to  hold  his  services  subject  to 
the  will  and  control  of  his  fellow-citizens  upon  such 
an  occasion  as  this4,  in  every  way  that  shall  conduce 
to  virtue,  to  public  spijrit  and  to  patriotism. 

We  have  returned  from  the  laying  of  the  corner 
stone  of  a  City  Armory — a  circumstance  not  of  so 
much  interest  in  itself  as  in  the  historic  incidents 
connected  with  it.  For,  that  structure  is  to  stand 
upon  the  site  of  the  old  Free  Library,  the  corner 
stone  of  which  was  laid  some  thirty-three  years  ago 
with  imposing  ceremonies.  Officiating  upon  that 
occasion,  and  dignifying  it  by  his  presence,  was  that 
immortal  man  and  true  patriot,  Lafayette,  one  of  the 
few  men  whom  we  can  afford  heartily  to  praise — not 
his  head  at  the  expense  of  his  heart,  not  his  heart  at 
the  expense  of  his  head,'  but  head  and  heart  and  hand 
— the  whole  man  together.  His  life  will  bear  search 
ing  in  youth,  in  middle  age,  in  old  age,  and  after  his 
departure  from  life.  You  need  hide  nothing  in  the 
grave. 

*  Address  delivered  at  the  laying  of  the  Corner-stone  of  the  Brook 
lyn  City  Armory,  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  1858. 
2C4 


PATRIOTISM    AND    LIBERTY.  265 

We  should,  speak  well  of  Lafayette.  He  was  one 
of  those  few  men  in  whom  the  most  romantic  senti 
ment  for  liberty  in  youth,  ripened,  in  manhood,  into  a 
moral  principle  enduring  as  life !  He  was  a  man 
without  guile,  without  selfishness  ;  a  man  whose  very 
bread  it  was  to  love  his  fellow  men.  In.  his  own  land, 
and,  in  this,  his  second  home — as  much  his  own  as 
France,  and  more — he  devoted  himself  freely  to  the 
welfare  of  the  people.  He  never  retracted  what  he 
had  said  or  done,  nor  marked  dark  lines  of  inconsist 
ency  across  his  clear  record.  While  thousands  like 
him  declared  for  liberty,  when  liberty  was  still  in  a 
state  of  fermentation,  he,  almost  alone,  among  thou 
sands  of  prominent  men  in  Europe,  remained  its  firm 
votary,  sacrificing  for  liberty  almost  everything  dear 
to  manhood. 

That- name  is  fitly  associated  with  the  name  of 
Washington  in  the  annals  of  our  American  liberty, 
and  I  count  it  a  good  omen — since  so  large  a  portion 
of  our  citizens  are  immigrants,  and  for  years  must 
continue  to  be — I  count  it  a  good  omen  that  in  look 
ing  back  to  our  Revolutionary  heroes,  there  is 
scarcely  a  nation  on  earth  that  cannot  point  to  some 
distinguished  officer,  and  say,  "  That  man,  who  bled 
with  your  fathers  for  liberty,  was  of  our  blood." 

It  may  seem,  fellow-citizens,  that  the  laying  of  the 
corner-stone  of  an  armory  is  scarcely  a  fit  occasion 
for  me  to  dwell  upon,  or  the  day  of  the  national  inde 
pendence  a  proper  time  to  call  out  the  enthusiasm  of 
a  man  of  my  profession.  But  I  was  a  man  before 
I  was  a  minister.  Whatever  any  man  should  feel,  I 
feel.  Whatever  any  man  should  say,  I  ought  to 
12 


266  PATRIOTISM    AND    LIBERTY. 

speak ;  I  am  a  citizen,  a  Christian  citizen.  Is  any 
thing  higher  than  that  ?  I  feel,  therefore,  that  it  is 
just  as  fitting  that  I  should  speak  some  words  conge 
nial  to  such  an  occasion  as  that  any  other  man  in  the 
citizenship  of  this  city  should  speak  them. 

If  it  shall  seem  a  bad  auspice  that  a  free  library 
should  give  place  to  an  armory,  you  will  remem 
ber  that  the  library  found  itself  too  strait,  and  so 
removed  otherwhere,  and  the  building  had  been 
appropriated  to  civil  purposes,  and  finally  had  been 
abandoned  even  for  these.  Nothing,  therefore,  is 
sacrificed. 

"We  may  well  take  this  occasion  of  the  founding  an 
armory,  to  consider  the  great  difference  between  our 
modern  free  cities  and  those  of  former  days.  They 
were  beleagured  with  walls  ;  our  w^alls  are  the  bodies 
of  free  citizens !  movable  walls,  pedestrian  walls. 
Wherever  there  is  an  enemy  there  is  a  wall,  made  up 
of  citizens.  Unlike  other  cities,  in  other  lands,  we 
have  no  forts  and  citadels,  if  we  except  the  household 
forts  commanded  by  fathers  and  mothers,  and  garri 
soned  by  them  and  their  children. 

There  never  wrere  more  peaceful  places  than  our 
citizen  armories,  where  our  citizen  soldiers  assemble 
to  carry  on  the  picturesque  part  of  war,  without  risk 
or  peril. 

Build,  then,  these  peaceful  Castles  of  Indolence  for 
our  citizen  soldiery,  and  let  them  have  a  home  among 
us.  The  very  differences  between  our  armories  and 
those  abroad  are  the  differences  between  free  cities  in 
free  America  and  the  cities  of  the  old  and  oppressed 
nations. 


PATRIOTISM    AND    LIBEKTY.  267 

But  let  me  take  occasion,  upon  the  erection  of  this 
building,  to  speak  of  the  better  armories  which  have 
been  lone:  building  among  us,  for  I  hold  that  our  best 

O  O  O  ' 

armories  are  the  houses  which  stand  along  our  streets. 

"Wherever  you  shall  find  a  father  and  mother,  and 
a  houseful  of  children,  there  is  the  best  commander, 
the  best  drill-sergeant,  the  best  soldiers.  The  free 
and  well-conducted  families — these  are  our  armories. 
Wherever  you  shall  find  an  intelligent  laboring  pop 
ulation — a  population  who  labor,  not  drudge ;  whose 
labor  is  not  compulsory,  enforced,  stolid,  but  whose 
heads  work  first,  and  then  animate  their  hands  with 
brains  to  work  more  skillfully  afterwards — cheerful, 
unrepining  labor — these  are  our  industrial  armories. 
And  at  every  point  where  you  can  congregate  a  band 
of  these  laborers,  men  who  sing  while  they  work,  and 
come  from  town  wiping  the  sundown  sweat  from 
their  brows,  to  be  cheered  with  the  comforts  of  home, 
and  wife,  and  children — these  are  our  armories. 

Again,  we  have  our  schools,  to  which  all  our 
children  have  access.  No  matter  how  poor  a  man 
may  be  in  money,  if  he  is  rich  in  children,  those 
family  jewels,  his  children  shall  have  the  benefit  of 
our  schools.  They  teach  all  alike,  the  children  of 
all  religious  faiths,  nationalities,  ranks  and  conditions  ; 
they  teach  them  all  the  common  ideas  and  duties  of 
American  citizens.  These  are  our  truest  armories, 
and  the  cities  which  have  these  are  inexpugnable. 

I  might  go  on  to  point  to  our  churches,  whence,  as 
from  a  fount,  we  draw  our  truest  notions  of  personal 
manhood,  of  personal  liberty,  of  municipal  privileges 
and  municipal  rights.  These  are  some  of  the  institn 


268  PATRIOTISM    AND    LIBERTY. 

tions  which   supervise   our   domestic   armories    and 
make  them  efficient. 

The  occasion  of  laying  the  corner-stone  of  the  Free 
Library  by  the  patriotic  Frenchman,  Lafayette, 
called  together  by  diligent  drumming  and  large 
counting  eight  thousand  people.  This  was  the  popu 
lation  of  Brooklyn  thirty-three  years  ago !  Who  then 
had  the  prescience  by  which  he  could  have  suspected 
such  a  day  as  this  ?  And  if  one  had  dared  to  say 
then  that  in  thirty-three  years  two  hundred  thousand 
inhabitants  would  have  lived  upon  this  side  of  the 
river,  he  would  have  bid  fair  for  a  berth  in  a  lunatic 
asylum. 

Yet  how  has  our  population  augmented  beyond  all 
anticipation  !  Instead  of  that  little  cozy  neighbor 
hood  village,  we  have  become  the  third  city  in  the 
Union.  The  third  not  alone  arithmetically — for 
though  a  city  requires  men  and  women,  men  and 
women  alone  do  not  make  a  city.  By  their  heads, 
and  hands,  and  hearts,  their  institutions,  their  homes, 
their  industry,  the  men  and  women  of  Brooklyn  have 
constituted  a  city  of  which  men  may  be  proud  and 
boast.  I  think  the  sun  does  not  upon  earth  shine 
upon  a  more  fair  and  beautiful  city. 

You  may  say  that  this  is  the  adulation  of  a  fond 
son,  and  that  I  think  it  meet  to  praise  the  place  of 
my  residence.  Nevertheless,  if  I  am  deceived  I  am 
deceived,  for  I  verily  believe  there  is  not  upon  this 
continent  a  site  so  beautiful,  and  so  well  adapted  for 
forming  a  large  permanent  city. 

It  cannot  be  many  years  (for  we  may  look  forward 
as  well  as  look  back) — I  think  it  cannot  be  manv 


PATRIOTISM    AND    LIBERTY.  269 

years  before  there  will  be  half  as  many  people  living 
in  Brooklyn  as  there  were  in  the  whole  country  when 
our  war  of  Independence  began.  I  think  it  not 
extravagant  to  say  that  if  we  go  on  prospering  as  we 
have  for  a  few  years  past,  our  borders  extending,  that 
in  a  few  years  we  shall  become  the  city  second,  per 
haps,  to  but  one  on  this  continent.  I  do  not  know 
that  I  should  make  even  that  exception,  for  Brooklyn 
seems  to  be  nearer  to  New  York  than  New  York  is 
to  herself.  These  cities,  twelve  miles  long,  on  long, 
narrow  islands,  are  not  the  cities  to  grow  like  your 
circular  cities,  which  have  room  to  spread  in  every 
direction,  and  we  may  yet  swell  our  population  beyond 
that  of  New  York !  We  are  destined  to  be  an 
immense  city,  and  it  becomes  us  to  lay  well  the  foun 
dations  of  these  institutions  which  are  to  make  our 
memory  precious  in  time  to  come,  and  hand  down  to 
our  children  a  legacy  better  than  that  our  fathers 
handed  down  to  us.  We  have  begun  well  in  our 
schools  and  churches,  already  renowned,  but  there  is 
still  in  our  institutions  a  work  for  you  and  for  me. 
We  shall  not  be  true  and  faithful  to  our  city  and  to 
the  time  in  which  we  live  if  we  do  not  hand  them 
down  more  noble  and  richer  in  all  the  elements  of 
civilization  and  progress  than  we  received  them. 

Standing  here  upon  the  day  set  apart  to  commemo 
rate  the  achievements  of  our  fathers,  we  ought  not  to 
forget  that  we  are  citizens,  not  only  of  this  city,  but 
also  of  this  great  republic.  We  remember  and  praise 
the  sufferings  and  achievements  of  our  fathers,  but 
they  suffered  and  struggled  willingly.  For  some 
years  past,  it  would  seem  that  the  celebration  of  this 


270  PATRIOTISM    AND   LIBERTY. 

day  lias  been  growing  into  disrepute,  and  it  is  well  to 
revive  the  custom.  Some  man  surely  can  always  be 
found  to  speak  worthily,  wisely,  and  well,  on  the 
great  subject  of  human  rights  and  human  liberty,  to 
which  the  day  is  sacred. 

What  is  the  Fourth  of  July  ?  Is  it  only  a  day  for 
explosion  of  powder,  a  day  for  outside  show  and  cele 
bration  ?  Is  it  not  the  day  that  stands  for  the  estab 
lishment  of  liberty  and  for  the  rights  of  man  ?  The 
soundest  and  truest  doctrine  ever  promulgated  was 
that  sustained  by  our  fathers  in  the  achievement  of 
our  independence.  It  is  that  which  mak^s  us  wrhat 
we  are ;  which  makes  this  day  the  Sabbath  of  Liberty. 

Let  me  say  a  few  words  respecting  our  country, 
than  which  a  fairer  and  nobler  God  never  made. 
Me  thinks  he  hid  it  for  ages  behind  the  heap  of  ocean 
waters,  that  he  might  here  at  last  build  up  a  mighty 
Christian  civilization,  that  should  realize  the  fondest 
hopes  and  expectations  of  prophets  and  seers.  So 
broad  a  land,  so  diversified  in  its  treasures,  so  fertile 
in  its  soil,  partaking  the  boon  which  every  climate 
has  to  confer,  stretching  through  so  many  lines  of 
longitude  in  the  West,  so  many  of  latitude  in  the 
North  and  so  many  in  the  South — so  fair,  so  large  and 
so  rich  a  land,  methinks  the  sun  nowhere  else  be 
holds  in  his  daily  journey.  God  has  poured  a  mixed 
people  upon  this  land.  Races  mingled  together 
make  a  better  population  than  consanguineous  stocks. 
God  has  poured  in  hither  lavishly  from  every  nation. 
Some  men  leave  their  country,  it  is  true,  for  their 
country's  good,  but  all  do  not.  They  that  are  too  rest 
less  and  enterprising  to  remain  at  home  ily  to  the 


PATRIOTISM   AND    LIBERTY.  271 

]S"ew  World.  They  whose  young  blood  cannot  walk 
the  old  paces  and  take  the  old  stale  customs ;  they 
are  the  men  who  fly  their  country  for  their  own  good, 
and  pour  upon  these  shores  for  ours.  We  take  them 
as  a  tribute  from  every  nation  under  the  sun — the 
young,  the  earnest,  the  best  blood,  the  motive  power 
of  the  nation. 

Such  blood  mingled  with  ours,  if  educated  and 
Christianized,  will  give  stamina,  variety,  genius,  and 
all  the  elements  of  national  power  and  progress  such 
as  were  never  before  brought  together.  This  is  our 
population  now.  The  Atlantic  greets  us  on  the  East, 
we  wash  our  feet  in  the  Pacific,  we  dip  our  hands  in 
the  Gulf,  we  bathe  our  brow  in  the  northern  lakes ; 
on  every  side  God  gives  no  other  boundaries  than 
mighty  oceans.  Enclosed  in  this  vast  area,  this 
nation  is  to  make  a  mark  in  history  which  no  other 
nation  ever  made. 

But  this  variety  of  climate  and  diversity  of  inter 
ests  is  one  great  cause  of  danger ; — as  ships  built  too 
long  and  not  strong  enough,  are  in  danger  of  break 
ing  in  the  middle,  so  we,  with  conflicting  interests 
upon  one  side  and  upon  the  other,  our  citizens  so 
separated  by  distance  as  to  lack  personal  sympathy 
and  frequent  intercourse,  are  in  like  danger  of  part 
ing  somewhere. 

Besides  this,  there  are  men  who  would  sacrifice 
tlieir  country  for  their  own  advancement,  and  there  is 
nothing  that  can  save  this  nation  from  the  perils  that 
surround  it  but  a  spirit  of  true  religion  and  of  that 
patriotism  which  true  religion  inspires,  a  spirit  that 
loves  country  not  for  self  but  for  the  country's  sake. 


272  PATRIOTISM    AND    LIBERTY. 

I  am  most  happy,  here  at  least,  to  claim  for  the 
Union,  as  most  heartily  I  do,  our  undivided  allegi 
ance.  For  there  is  no  sacrifice  too  great  to  pay  for 
the  union  of  these  States,  unless  we  sacrifice  that  for 
which  the  Union  was  first  made — Liberty.  We  will 
suffer  much  for  the  sake  of  the  Union — we  will  give 
up  many  sectional  points  of  pride,  but  when  we  are 
asked  to  give  up  the  spirit  which  animated  the  men 
of  the  Revolution — the  spirit  of  Liberty — that  we  can 
never  give  up. 

We  declare  that  any  true-  patriotism  must  be  a 
patriotism  wrhich  shall  include  in  itself  the  knowledge 
and  love  of  those  principles  well  embodied  in  the 
Declaration  of  our  Independence — the  rights  of  man 
— the  declaration  that  all  men  are  born  free  and 
equal.  Patriotism  without  that  is  not  patriotism  in 
America.  It  may  be  patriotism  in  Austria,  but  not 
in  America.  The  patriotism  that  does  not  include 
within  itself  the  doctrine  that  every  man  has  inalien 
able  rights  to  life,  liberty  and  property — the  patriot 
ism  that  leaves  that  out,  is  like  a  man  without  a 
heart  or  a  head — a  hollow  corpse. 

We  have  had  patriotism  of  all  shapes  and  forms. 
Sometimes  it  goes  up  and  down  the  country  preach 
ing  Union  and  patriotism,  but  with  everything  of 
liberty  left  out.  Our  fathers  embraced  in  their 
patriotism  everything  pertaining  to  sacred  liberty, 
and  by  their  sufferings  and  struggles  they  maintained 
their  declaration.  Our  patriotism  must  be  a  patriot 
ism  that  takes  in  Maine,  and  New  Hampshire,  and 
Vermont,  and  Massachusetts,  and  Rhode  Island,  and 
Connecticut,  and  ISTew  Jersey,  and  Ohio,  and  Penn- 


PATRIOTISM    AND   LIBERTY.  273 

sylvania,  and  Virginia,  and  Delaware,  and  Maryland, 
and  North  Carolina  and  even  South  Carolina.  Yes, 
and  Georgia,  Alabama,  Louisiana,  Mississippi  and 
Arkansas,  Tennessee  and  Kentucky,  Ohio  and  dear 
old  Indiana,  and  Illinois,  and  Missouri,  bound  for 
freedom,  and  Minnesota  and  Wisconsin,  and  I  know 
not  how  many  besides.  [A  voice,  u  Kanas."]  Yes, 
Kansas  and  California,  and  all  the  States,  named 
and  unnamed,  that  are  and  are  yet  to  come.  A 
patriotism  it  must  be  that  shall  take  in  every  State 
that  stands  within  the  confederacy — a  patriotism  not 
for  party  broils,  party  spoils,  squabbles,  contention, 
wranglings  and  base  ambitions;  but  a  patriotism 
that  shall  give  to  every  one  of  the  States  that  very 
foundation  laid  by  our  revolutionary  struggle — 
liberty,  liberty,  nothing  else  than  liberty ! 

What  are  our  Fourth-of- Julys  from  which  these 
great  truths  are  left  out  ?  "What  is  that  patriotism 
which  ignores,  or  daintily  touches  and  passes  by  this 
greatest  thought,  this  most  noble  heritage  of  civiliza 
tion — liberty  for  every  man  ?  This  is  a  patriotism 
which  will  save  our  great  country.  1  am  not  an  ill- 
omened  prophet:  I  do  not  believe  we  shall  go  to 
wreck;  I  believe  God  built  his  temple  on  these 
shores.  Although,  like  temples  in  other  times,  it  may 
have  been  occasionally  delayed  and  marred,  in  some 
parts  at  least,  yet  the  temple  is  reared  to  Christ  and 
to  Liberty.  I  believe  it  will  be  perfected  and  God 
will  preserve  this  nation  by  the  instrumentality  of 
your  hearts,  your  hands,  your  heads,  and  by  your 
fidelity  to  our  original  Revolutionary  principles.  But, 
amid  broils  and  high  conflicts,  be  sure  that  it  is  safe 


PATRIOTISM    AND  LIBERTY. 

to  stand  firmly  upon  the  old  truths.  It  is  never  safe 
to  abandon  our  profession  of  faith  in  liberty.  It  is 
never  safe  to  put  this  nation  upon  the  shifting  sands 
of  expediency!  And  whatever  storms  arise,  what 
ever  fierce  winds  blow,  there  is  no  other  anchor  for 
us  but  that  goodly  anchor  of  Liberty  !  Never  be 
ashamed  of  it.  Speak  it  out,  openly,  boldly,  sin 
cerely,  and  let  your  life  corroborate  your  words. 

Remember  that  discussion  should  ever  be  free. 
Let  us  remember  the  duty  of  toleration  of  men  that 
differ  in  the  extremest  points  from  us.  Let  us  accord 
to  them  that  right  which  we  assert  for  ourselves — the 
right  to  believe  what  we  will — the  right  to  defend 
what  we  think — the  right  to  express  what  we  believe. 
Their  rights  ancTours.  are  the  same,  and  if  upon  that 
common  freedom  Liberty  cannot  stand,  let  her  go  to 
the  ground.  I  am  not  afraid  to  venture.  Give  us 
freedom  of  speech  and  action,  and  this  land  will  shake 
the  dust  of  oppression  from  her  garments  and  stand 
forth  the  virgin  daughter  of  God,  free,  blessed  and 
blessing  ! 

I  have  been  asked  by  those  concerned  in  a  benevo 
lent  movement  to  mention  to  you  the  ladies  of 
America,  who  are  now  engaged  in  the  work  of  pur 
chasing  the  grounds  and  tomb  of  Washington,  at 
Mount  Yernon ;  and  with  this  I  shall  fitly  close.  Is  it 
fit  that  women  should  rise  up  in  the  perturbed  state  of 
the  Union,  and  should  everywhere,  as  they  do,  beg 
for  peace  and  honorable  conciliation.  You  will 
remember  that  when  Christ  had  slept  three  days,  and 
many  thought  the  world  was  empty  of  him,  that  it- 
was  the  women  who  went  to  the  sepulchre,,  asking  as 


PATRIOTISM   AND    LIBEKTY.  275 

they  went,  who  shall  roll  away  the  stone,  and  that, 
when  they  reached  the  tomb,  the  stone  was  rolled 
away,  and  an  angel  sat  upon  it.  Now  the  women  of 
America  go  to  the  tomb  of  Washington,  and  who  will 
roll  away  the  stone  ?  God  grant  that  they  may  find 
the  stone  rolled  away  and  the  living  spirit  of  Wash 
ington,  which  is  the  spirit  of  liberty,  sitting  upon  it, 
to  hail,  to  cheer  and  to  bless  them. 


PURITY  OF  CHARACTER. 

OVEK  the  beauty  of  the  plum  and  the  apricot,  there 
grows  a  bloom  and  beauty  more  exquisite  than  the 
fruit  itself — a  soft,  delicate  plush  that  overspreads 
its  blushing  cheek.  "Now,  if  you  strike  your  hand 
over  that,  and  it  is  once  gone,  it  is  gone  forever ;  for 
it  never  grows  but  once.  Take  the  flower  that  hangs 
in  the  morning,  impearled  with  dew,  arrayed  as  no 
queenly  woman  ever  was  arrayed  with  jewels.  Once 
shake  it,  so  that  the  beads  roll  off,  and  you  may 
sprinkle  water  over  it  as  carefully  as  you  please,  yet 
it  can  never  be  made  again  what  it  wras  when  the 
dew  fell  silently  upon  it  from  heaven !  On  a  frosty 
morning,  you  may  see  the  panes  of  glass  covered 
with  landscapes — mountains,  lakes,  trees,  blended  in 
a  beautiful,  fantastic  picture.  Now,  lay  your  hand 
upon  the  g]ass,  and  by  the  scratch  of  your  finger,  or 
by  the  warmth  of  your  palm,  all  the  delicate  tracery 
will  be  obliterated !  .  So  there  is  in  youth  a  beauty 
and  purity  of  character,  which,  when  once  touched 
and  denied,  can  never  be  restored;  a  fringe  more 
delicate  than  frost-work,  and  which,  when  torn  and 
broken,  will  never  be  reembroidered.  A  man  who 
has  spotted  and  soiled  his  moral  garments  in  youth, 
though  he  may  seek  to  make  them  white  again,  can 
never  wholly  do  it,  even  were  he  to  wash  them  with  his 
tears.  When  a  young  man  leaves  his  father's  house, 

276 


PUKITS"    OF   CHARACTER.  277 

with  the  blessing  of  his  mother's  tears  still  wet  upon 
his  forehead,  if  he  once  loses  that  early  purity  of 
character,  it  is  a  loss  that  he  can  never  make  whole 
again.  Such  is  the  consequence  of  crime.  Its  effect 
cannot  be  eradicated ;  it  can  only  be  forgiven.  It  is 
a  stain  of  blood  that  we  can  never  make  white,  and 
which  can  be  washed  away  only  in  the  blood  of 
Christ,  that  "  cleanseth  from  all  sin  I1' 


HOW  TO  BEAR  LITTLE  TROUBLES. 

THERE  is  a  kind  of  narrowness  into  which,  in  our 
every-day  experiences,  we. are  apt  to  fall,  and  against 
which  we  should  most  carefully  guard.  When  a  man 
who  is  in  perfect  health  has  a  wound  inflicted  upon 
him — a  wound  in  his  foot,  a  cut  on  his  finger,  a  pain 
in  his  hand — he  is  almost  always  sure  to  feel,  even 
though  it  be  only  a  small  member  that  suffers,  and 
the  suffering  itself  be  unworthy  of  the  name,  that  the 
perfect  soundness  of  all  the  rest  of  his  body  counts  as 
nothing ;  and  a  little  annoyance  is  magnified  into  a 
universal  pain.  Only  a  single  point  may  be  hurt, 
and  yet  he  feels  himself  clothed  with  uneasiness,  or 
with  a  garment  of  torture.  So,  God  may  send  ten 
thousand  mercies  upon  us,  but  if  there  happen  to  be 
only  one  discomfort  among  them,  one  little  worry,  or 
fret,  or  bicker,  all  the  mercies  and  all  the  comforts 
are  forgotten,  and  count  as  nothing!  One  little 
trouble  is  enough  to  set  them  all  aside  !  There  may 
be  an  innumerable  train  of  mercies  which,  if  they 
were  stopped  one  by  one,  and  questioned,  would 
seem  like  angels  bearing  God's  gifts  in  their  hands ! 
But  we  forget  them  all,  in  the  remembrance  of  the 
most  trivial  inconvenience !  A  man  may  go  about 
all  the  day  long — discontented,  fretting,  out  of  humor 
— who,  at  evening,  on  asking  himself  the  question, 
"  "What  has  ailed  me  to-day  ?"  may  be  filled  with 

273 


HOW   TO   BEAR   LITTLE   TROUBLES.  279 

shame  because  unable  to  tell !  The  annoyance  is 
so  small  and  slight  that  he  cannot  recognize  it ;  yet, 
its  power  over  him  is  almost  incredible.  He  is 
equally  ashamed  with  the  cause  and  the  result. 

We  may  fall  into  such  a  state  merely  through  indif 
ference,  and  remain  there  simply  because  we  have 
fallen  into  it,  and  make  no  effort  to  get  out.  When 
a  man  starts  wrong  early  in  the  morning,  unless  he  is 
careful  to  set  himself  right  before  he  has  gone  far,  he 
will  hardly  be  able  to  straighten  out  his  crookedness 
.  until  noon  or  afternoon — if  haply  then ;  for  a  man 
is  like  a  large  ship  ;  he  cannot  turn  round  in  a  small 
space,  and  must  make  his  sweep  in  a  large  curve.  If 
we  wake  up  with  a  heavenly  mind,  we  are  apt  to 
carry  it  with  us  through  the  day  ;  but  if  we  wake  up 
with  a  fretful,  peevish,  discontented  disposition,  we 
are  apt  to  carry  that  all  the  day,  and  all  the  next  day 
too !  I  have  comforted  myself,  and  risen  out  of  this 
state  of  mind,  by  saying  to  myself,  "  Well,  you  are  in 
trouble ;  something  has  come  upon  you  which  is 
painful ;  but  will  you  let  it  clasp  its  arms  around 
you,  and  shut  you  in  its  embrace  from  the  sight  and 
touch  of  all  the  many  other  things  that  are  accounted 
joys?  Will  you  suffer  yourself  to  be  harnessed  and 
driven  by  iU"  It  is  well  to  remember  that  there 
is  a  way  of  overcoming  present  troubles  by  a  recog 
nition  of  present  or  promised  mercies.  The  apostle 
Paul  knew  this,  and  so  exhorted  us  to  "  look  unto 
Jesus,  who,  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before  him,  en 
dured  the  cross,  despising  the  shame."  All  that 
Christ  had  to  bear  he  bore  patiently — he  carried  his 
sorrow  about  with  him  as  a  very  little  thing.  Whv  I 


280  HOW    TO    BEAR    LITTLE   TROUBLES. 

Because  of  the  "  joy  that  was  set  before  him  !"  Oh  ! 
let  us  apply  the  exhortation  faithfully  to  ourselves ; 
and  when  we  are  worried,  and  tempted  to  give  way 
to  vexation,  let  us  seek  a  sweet  relief  in  the  thought 
of  the  blessedness  that  is  set  before  us  to  be  an  in 
heritance  forever ! 


"  SIN  REVIVED  AND  I  DIED." 

THE  apostle  Paul  says,  "  I  was  alive  without  the 
law  .  once,  but  when  the  commandment  came,  sin 
revived  and  I  died."  A  man  walking  in  a  beautiful 
field  on  a  bright  summer  morning,  when  the  sun  is 
golden  and  makes  everything  it  shines  upon  golden 
too,  asks  himself,  "  What  field  is  this  ?"  He  thinks, 
"  Perhaps  this  field,  in  the  old  Revolutionary  struggle, 
was  deluged  with  gore  ;  and  perhaps  there  are  now 
at  the  roots  of  these  flowers,  and  of  this  grass,  the 
very  instruments  of  war  that  were  used  in  the  con 
flict,  and  the  bones  of  those  who  fell  in  wielding 
them."  Suppose,  as  he  walks,  thus  musing,  and 
looking  at  the  clouds  and  the  sunlit  face  of  Nature, 
all  at  once,  in  the  places  where  he  saw  flowers  and 
shrubs,  there  should  be  protruding  bones  ! — the  gaunt 
bones  of  an  arm,  or  of  a  hand ! — or  that  a  skull, 
ghastly  and  appalling,  should  break  through,  and 
that  all  the  hideous  carcasses  of  the  men  who  fought 
and  died  in  the  old  battle  should  begin  to  stir  them 
selves  in  every  part  of  the  field,  with  terror  in  their 
forms  and  figures,  and  greater  terror  still  in  their 
movements,  and  that  they  should  utter  again  the 
shriek  of  war,  horrible  and  sepulchral !  This  would 
be  like  unto  that  which  the  apostle  saw,  and  which 
he  meant  when  he  wrote  these  words.  They  are  as 
though  he  had  said,  "  I  was  alive  once  without  the 


282  "  SIN    REVIVED    AND    I    DIED." 

law ;  and  all  at  once  God  touched  me  by  his  living 
commandment.  Sin  revived,  and  all  the  corruption 
of  my  old  transgressions,  all  the  ghastly  remembran 
ces  of  my  old  folly  and  iniquity,  all  my  former 
deficiencies,  all  my  pride  and  vanity,  all  my  self- 
righteousness,  all  my  lusts,  all  that  was  wicked  in  me, 
suddenly  rose  up  in  baleful  resurrection  before  my 
eyes,  and  I  fell  stricken  to  the  ground  with  horror 
at  the  sight !"  This  is  not  the  experience  of  Paul 
only;  it  has  been  repeated  more  or  less  vividly  in 
the  lives  of  thousands  and  thousands  of  persons,  from 
that  day  to  this;  for  men,  while  they  are  proud,  and 
vain,  and  ignorant,  are  contented  with  their  own  con 
dition,  and  conceited  in  their  own  favor ;  but  when 
the  revealing  touch  of  God's  Spirit  is  felt  within  them, 
and  they  see  and  understand  the  law  of  God,  "  Sin 
revives  and  they  die !"  Things  change  with  the 
rule  by  which  they  are  measured.  A  low  moral 
standard  will  content  men  with  conduct  and  motives, 
which,  in  the  light  of  a  higher  law,  would  seem 
detestable.  Human  conduct,  which,  judged  by  cus 
tom  and  unenlightened  human  opinion,  seems  guilt 
less,  when  measured  by  the  law  of  a  pure  and  holy 
God,  appears  full  of  guilt.  And  no  man  has  judged 
rightly  of  either  his  character  or  his  conduct,  until 
he  has  held  them  up  in  the  light  of  God's  counte 
nance  and  measured  them  by  God's  law. 


HUMILITY  BEFORE  GOD. 

I  THINK  that  a  view  of  what  we  are  before  God,  of 
our  leanness,  of  our  littleness,  of  our  weakness  and 
imperfection,  is  enough  to  keep  down  the  risings  of 
any  man's  pride.  There  are  times  when,  if  a 
man  should  receive  a  full,  clear  view  of  what  he  is 
himself,  in  comparison  with  what  God  is,  all  hope 
and  almost  life  itself  would  be  crushed  out  of  him  ! 
And  it  is  only  when  God  reveals  himself  in  the 
person  of  Jesus  Christ,  pardoning  sins,  and  over 
looking  our  errors  and  imperfections,  that  we  are 
enabled  to  have  hope !  But  while,  in  the  view  of 
God,  every  Christian  feels  that  he  is  not  only  sinful, 
but  ignominiously  so,  and  degraded  beyond  all  ex 
pression,  yet  there  is  in  his  experience  of  the  love 
which  Christ  has  for  him,  notwithstanding  his  weak 
ness  and  impurity,  a  certain  boldness  that  lifts  him 
up  and  gives  him  confidence  to  stand  in  the  very 
presence  of  God ! 

Did  you  ever  see  a  child,  which  through  a  period 
of  days  and  weeks  had  little  by  little  been  gathering 
mischief  and  disobedience,  and  seeming  to  be  aching 
for  a  whipping  ?  By  and  by  he  comes  to  a  state  in 
which  it  is  plain  that  there  must  be  an  outbreak; 
and  an  occasion  occurs,  perhaps,  from  some  trifling 
circumstance,  in  which  he  is  brought  to  a  direct  issue 
with  the  parent,  and  the  question  is,  who  shall  conquer, 
the  mother  or  the  child?  She  expostulates,  but  the 

2S3 


284:  HUMILITY   BEFORE    GOD. 

child  grows  red  and  swells  with  anger;  she  pleads  with 
him,  and  uses  all  her  power  to  bring  him  to  a  recon 
ciliation  on  the  basis  of  justice ;  but  nothing  will  do  ; 
and  at  last,  when  everything  else  has  failed,  and 
she  has  been  unable  by  gentle  means  to  subdue  his 
haughty  pride — if  she  does  what  she  ought  to  do,  she 
gives  him  a  sound  whipping !  He  is  quickly  subdued, 
and  filled  with  shame,  yet  not  entirely  humbled ;  but 
when  he  sees  the  much-loving  mother,  who  has  wept 
with  even  more  pain  and  suffering  than  the  child 
himself,  going  about  the  room — a  kind  of  living 
music  to  the  child's  unconscious  feeling ! — taking  her 
seat  at  last  in  some  window-nook,  with  sorrow  upon 
her  face,  he  comes  to  himself,  and,  thinking  a 
moment,  feels  that  all  the  old  dark  flood  of  ugliness 
has  gone  away,  and  an  entirely  new  feeling  begins  to 
take  possession  of  him.  He  looks  at  the  face  of  the 
mother,  with  love  swelling  in  his  heart,  and  wishes 
that  he  were  sitting  at  her  feet.  And  when  she  says, 
"My  child,  why  do  you  not  come  to  me?" — with 
another  burst  of  tears,  not  of  pain  and  wounded 
feeling,  but  of  joy  and  love — he  throws  himself  into 
her  arms,  and  buries  his  head  in  her  bosom !  Ah  !  if 
I  remember  aright,  I  can  recount  many  similar  expe 
riences  in  my  own  early  life ;  and  I  am  brought  back 
into  the  remembrance  of  such  childhood's  scenes,  be 
cause  the  relation  of  my  own  disobedient  heart  to  my 
mother  when  she  punished  me,  is  the  best  illustration 
which  I  can  give  you  of  the  relation  of  the  soul  of  a 
rebelling  child  of  God  to  his  chastising  hand! 
When  after  being  puffed  up  with  pride  and  vanity, 
from  being  engaged  in  worldly  pursuits,  and  being 


HUMILITY    BEFORE    GOD.  285 

contented  with,  mere  worldly  moralities,  T  am  sud 
denly,  by  afflictions  or  disappointments,  or  by  the 
direct  visitation  of  God's  Holy  Spirit,  humbled  and 
brought  to  the  very  earth  with  contrition  ;  oh  !  who 
can  tell  how  sweet  it  is  to  take  hold  of  the  outreaching 
hand  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  go  up  into  the 
confidence  and  embrace  of  his  love  !  I  am  nothing 
myself:  I  am  entirely  humbled  and  subdued  ;  only  I 
feel  his  love  in  my  heart,  and  my  heart  swells  with 
love  in  return.  These  are  days  of  sweetness! 
These  are  days  of  heavenly  joy!  These  are  days  of 
true  humility  !  Oh  !  how  lowly  a  man  bows,  and  how 
lowly  he  walks,  who  has  a  view  of  his  own  littleness 
and  emptiness  in  comparison  with  the  greatness  and 
the  fullness  of  the  ever-living  and  ever-loving  God ! 


WHO  SHALL  HELP  THE  UNFORTUNATE  ? 

THE  importunities  of  various  want  at  our  door, 
remind  us  that  the  summer  is  gone  and  winter  is 
coming.  Work  and  wages  are  growing  less  and 
less;  expense  is  growing  daily  more  and  more. 
Besides,  in  the  change  from  season  to  season,  sick 
ness  revels.  Winter  takes  away  from  thousands  the 
little  strength  they  had.  Colds,  consumptions,  in 
their  endless  varieties  and  stages,  are  plucking  away 
health,  energy  and  hope,  and  preparing  the  bosom 
for  the  last  and  deadly  stroke  of  Time. 

WHO  HELP  THE  NEEDY?  !N"ot  misers  or  stingy 
men.  They  regard  poverty  as  a  crime  ;  importunity 
is  worse  than  an  insult.  They  button  up  their  hearts 
against  solicitation,  and  doggedly  say,  "  ]STo,  I  will 
not,"  or  drive  off  the  beseeching  face  wTith  bitter 
advice,  "  Go,  work,  sir !  I  have  to  work  for  my  liv 
ing — you  must  work  for  yours." 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  should  be  glad  to  work :  will  you  give 
me  work  to  do  ?" 

"  Give  you  work  ?  Do  you  suppose  I  have  nothing 
else  to  do  but  run  about  hunting  work  for  such  vaga 
bonds  as  you  ?  Haven't  you  got  legs,  and  a  tongue  in 
your  head  ?  Why  don't  you  get  your  own  work  ?" 

Sometimes  these  men  are  just  as  bad  as  they  seem, 
just  as  heartless,  selfish,  and  cruel.  Sometimes  they 


SHALL  HELP  THE  UNFORTUNATE?     287 

arc  very  kind  men  in  their  families,  and  to  their  re 
latives.  But  they  think  that  no  one  ought  to  be  poor 
in  this  country,  and  that  if  they  are,  it  must  be  from 
negligence,  or  indolence,  or  spendthrift  vice ;  and  so 
a  poor  beggar  is  presumptively  a  knave,  who  thinks 
that  he  can  deceive  you ;  and  the  man  blusters 
fiercely  at  him,  in  part  to  let  him  know  that  he  can 
not  dupe  him. 

Next,  are  those  whose  kindness  depends  upon  their 
mood.  Slamming  the  door  in  everybody's  face  to-day, 
and  profuse  and  indiscriminate  in  kindness  to-morrow. 
Their  charity  is  a  mere  firing  into  the  air,  a  feu  de 
joie  /  they  do  not  aim  at  a  mark,  or  take  sight  at  all. 

There  are  some  whose  hearts  are  so  tender  that  they 
never  refuse  until  nothing  is  left  to  give.  We  cannot 
help  loving  such  amiable  fellows,  whose  hearts  flow 
down  with  generous  elements.  But  they  are  the  god 
fathers  of  swindlers.  They  encourage  and  breed  a 
race  of  beggars  who  feed  unworthily  upon  the  bread 
which  belongs  to  the  modest  poor. 

Then  come  a  large  class  of  men  who  are  excellent 
citizens  and  exemplary  Christians ;  but  who  have 
never  really  studied  their  personal  duties  toward  the 
unfortunate.  Some  think  that  they  are  doing  their 
part  toward  society  by  the  energetic  and  successful 
conduct  of  their  business ;  some  contribute  to  charity 
by  aiding  various  charitable  institutions,  asylums, 
hospitals,  etc. ;  others  throw  into  the  plate  a  five  dol 
lar  bill  when  the  collection  for  the  poor  is  taken  up  in 
church ;  or  they  send  round  a  sum  to  their  minister 
asking  him  to  distribute  it ;  or  they  subscribe  to  the 
City  Belief  Society,  and  so  on. 


238  WHO    SHALL   HELP   THE    UNFORTUNATE? 

All  of  the  last-mentioned  persons  would  unite  in 
saying,  We  are  willing  to  give  our  money,  but  we 
cannot  give  our  time  and  attention  to  the  poor. 

There  is  a  division  of  labor  possible  in  the  relief  of 
the  poor  and  the  unfortunate.  There  ought  to  be 
men  who  should  make  it  their  business;  there  are 
others  whose  dispositions  and  whose  circumstances 
qualify  them  to  visit  the  abodes  of  misery  and  dwell 
much  with  the  unfortunate;  but  there  are  others 
whom  business  so  much  absorbs  as  to  make  much 
personal  attention  impossible. 

But  after  every  allowance  has  been  charitably 
made,  we  are  every  year  more  and  more  satisfied 
that  no  man  can  afford  to  dispense  entirely  with  per 
sonal  service  toward  the  unfortunate.  The  moral 
education  involved  in  Christian  charity,  is  not 
gained  by  a  mere  donation  of  money,  no  matter  how 
generous,  or  how  often  repeated.  Our  hearts  need 
the  discipline  of  sympathy  with  the  poor  and  the 
afflicted,  just  as  much  as  their  hearts  do.  We  need 
to  put  ourselves  in  the  places  of  needy  men,  to  hear 
their  sorrows  until  they  come  home  like  our  own  ;  to 
look  at  life  through  their  experience,  to  study  their 
wants,  and  to  exercise  patience,  forbearance  and 
gentleness  while  dealing  with  their  misfortunes,  or 
full  as  often,  with  their  faults.  And  no  man  can  tell 
the  fullness  of  blessing  which  God  means  for  him, 
when  he  sends  to  him  misfortunes  which  he  adopts  as 
his  own,  and  studies  to  relieve.  It  was  the  revela 
tion  of  God's  nature,  indeed,  when  it  was  said  of 
Christ  that  he  bore  our  griefs  and  carried  our  sor- 


WHO  SHALL  HELP  THE  UNFORTUNATE  ?     289 

rows.  If  Christ  dwell  in  any  heart,  this  will  be  one 
of  the  first  and  most  unmistakable  evidences  of  it. 

Now,  the  men  who  plead  occupation,  unfitness, 
etc.,  as  a  reason  for  not  giving  time  and  personal 
attention  to  the  poor,  are  the  very  men  who  most 
need  the  discipline  of  such  a  course.  They  are  in 
prosperity  and  need  something  to  temper  it ;  they  are 
absorbed  by  their  own  cares,  which  seem  to  them 
heavier  than  anybody  else's  and  sharper.  They  need 
to  have  their  burdens  lightened  by  knowing  that 
their  cares  are  often  trifling  in  comparison  with 
others.'  A  man  who  is  steadily  going  up  in  the  world 
cannot  afford  to  lose  sympathetic  acquaintance  with 
men  that  are  steadily  going  dowrn.  Our  softness  of 
ease,  our  luxuries,  our  scope  and  power  of  wealth, 
are  as  deadly  enemies  as  can  intrench  the  heart, 
unless  we  extract  the  quality  of  selfishness  from  them. 

The  change  from  kindness  to  selfishness  is  very 
insidious.  Few  men  are  aware  of  what  is  going  on 
in  them  as  they  rise  in  life.  Others  see  it.  It  passes 
into  remark  among  those  who  know  them.  But  few 
men  have  friends  who  are  friends,  that  dare  tell 
them  their  faults.  There  are  very  few  who  will  tell  a 
man,  "  You  are  growing  much  more  imperious  than 
you  used  to  be  ;  you  are  more  difficult  to  approach ; 
you  carry  yourself  as  if  you  felt  your  importance  in 
the  world."  There  are  not  many  friends  that  will 
risk  their  peace  by  saying  to  a  man,  "  You  are  more 
ostentatious,  but  less  generous  than  you  used  to  be. 
You  may  give  away  more  money,  but  you  show  less 
sympathy  and  kindness.  You  are  more  worldly. 
You  are  growing  very  selfish ;  and  you  spend  twenty 
13 


290  WHO    SHALL    HELP    THE    UNFORTUNATE  ? 

times  as  mncli  upon  yourself  for  the  sake  of  effect,  as 
you  used  to  do  ten  years  ago." 

But  all  prosperous  men  need  faithful  friends. 
"  Open  rebuke  is  better  than  secret  love.  Faithful 
are  the  wounds  of  a  friend."  There  are  enough  that 
will  natter  those  who  love  to  be  nattered,  and 
enough  that  will  criticise,  and  enough  that  will  be 
silent,  and  sorrowful.  But  there  are  few  that  will 
tell  a  man  the  very  things  which  it  most  concerns 
him  to  know. 

But  if  a  man  employs  his  prosperity  as  a  garner,  in 
which  are  gathered  the  seeds  of  other  men's  advan 
tage  ;  if  when  he  is  lifted  up  he  will  often  let  himself 
down  among  those  who  are  struggling ;  if  he  will 
oblige  his  heart  to  go  out  of  its  own  courses,  to  enter 
upon  the  story  of  other  hearts,  to  think,  feel,  plan,  and 
achieve  for  them,  he  will  rob  prosperity  of  its  sharp 
est  danger,  and  put  himself  into  that  very  school 
where  God  teaches  us  how  to  be  like  Christ — a  school 
in  which  our  Master  was  once  himself  a  scholar,  for 
"  though  he  was  a  son,  yet  learned  he  obedience  by 
the  things  which  he  suffered ;  and  being  made  per 
fect  he  became  the  author  of  eternal  salvation  unto 
all  them  that  obey  him." 


PLYMOUTH    CHURCH. 

give  place  to  a  communication  upon  the  pew- 
renting  in  Plymouth  church.  We  have  seen  several 
like  comments  in  print : 

"  It  was  with  pain  that  we  saw  in  the  papers  that  the  pews  in  the 
Plymouth  church  had  been  rented  for  about  $25,000.  Is  this  the 
way  to  fulfill  the  command  of  our  Saviour,  to  make  his  Gospel  known 
to  every  creature  ?  Who  are  the  men  that  have  bid  off  the  pews  at  a 
great  premium,  to  the  exclusion  of  500  church-members,  and  many 
others,  who  desired  the  benefits  of  the  pastor's  labors?  Are  they 
such  as  most  need  his  instruction  ?  or  do  they  secure  the  best  scats 
for  their  own  personal  gratification  ?  Ought  not  many  of  those  to  be 
laboring  with  feeble  churches  in  unfavorable  localities,  under  the  be 
lief  that  it  is  more  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  Christianity  to  do 
good  than  to  get  good?  We,  who  do  not  live  in  large  cities,  cannot 
believe  that  it  is  right  or  Christian  for  one  congregation  to  expend 
$25,000  for  themselves,  while  many  feeble  churches  are  struggling 
for  existence,  and  many  self-denying  ministers  must  rely  on  faith  for 
the  supply  of  their  daily  bread." 

The  writer  asks,  "Is  this  the  way  to  fulfill  the  com 
mand  of  our  Saviour,  to  make  his  Gospel  known  to 
every  creature  ?"  Well.  Does  our  friend  wish  no 
more  churches  built  ?  The  apostles  built  none.  They 
never  preached  in  a  church  in  their  lives.  For  hun 
dreds  of  years,  it  is  probable  that  preaching  was  mere 
exposition  of  Scripture ;  and  performed  without  regu 
larity,  from  place  to  place,  in  houses,  in  public  resorts, 
market-places,  and  wherever  a  crowd  collected. 

291 


292  PLYMOUTH    CHUECH. 

Buildings  for  the  church  were  of  later  date  than  the 
apostolic  era.  And  to  undertake  to  regulate  modern 
preaching  by  the  exact  imitation  of  apostolic  practice, 
would  be  the  stupidest  striving  after  an  absolute  im 
possibility.  No  exact  form  was  prescribed  for  church 
organization,  none  for  church  order  and  government, 
none  for  public  worship,  and  none  for  the  external 
and  material  elements  of  church  use.  No  doubt, 
much  more  attention  should  be  given  to  the  carrying 
of  the  truth  to  men  who  will  not  come  to  church. 
But  is  there  to  be  no  centre,  no  organization,  no 
building,  and  no  regular  and  formal  stated  preaching? 
And  if  so,  is  there  or  is  there  not  to  be  a  secular 
arrangement  for  maintaining  such  an  institution? 
There  is  no  one  way  of  giving  Christian  truth  to  the 
people.  It  must  include  every  feasible  method. 
And  central  among  them,  and  the  fountain  and 
motive  power  of  all  other  ways,  is  the  regular  and 
organized  church.  Now,  if  the  church  is  to  buy 
land,  build  a  house,  buy  coal  for  warming,  gas  for 
lighting,  pay  the  sexton  for  caring  for  the  property, 
and  support  the  minister  who  is  set  for  watch  and 
teaching,  then  there  must  be  money  raised  to  do 
it.  And  a  church,  when  it  deals  with  material  things, 
is  subject  to  just  the  same  commercial  law  as  any 
other  body.  Buying  and  selling  in  a  church  are  just 
the  same  as  in  a  store.  Both  should  be  honest  and 
equitable,  and  if  they  are,  it  is  all  sham  to  talk  of  the 
church  being  too  sacred  for  worldly  things. 

Whenever  a  church  comes  to  that  part  of  its  busi 
ness  which  is  secular,  and  requires  commercial  wis 
dom,  then  it  must  stand  just  like  any  other  honest 


PLYMOUTH    CHURCH.  293 

concern,  subject  to  all  the  equitable  laws  of  matter 
and  money.  The  pews  must  be  sold  and  taxed,  or 
rented  every  year ;  and  this  must  be  done  publicly, 
that  all  may  have  a  chance.  And  if  the  pews  are 
not  much  sought  after,  there  will  be  but  little  trouble 
or  complaint.  But  if  the  pews  are  few^er  than  the 
applicants  ;  if  ten  men  want  seats  when  but  one  can 
be  accommodated,  how  are  we  to  select  which  shall 
have  them  ? 

Shall  there  be  a  perpetual  scramble?  Then  the 
strongest  will  get  them.  Shall  they  be  rented  pri 
vately  ?  Then  the  alert  and  shrewd  wrill  get  them. 
Shall  they  be  rented  openly  and  in  fair  competition  ? 
Then,  inevitably,  they  must  follow  the  commercial 
law,  and  the  man  who  wants  them  most,  and  has  the 
means  of  paying  the  most,  must  have  them. 

Now,  it  is  very  easy  to  stand  off  and  rail.  "Will 
any  one  suggest  a  plan  by  which  5,000  men  can  be 
put  into  a  church  that  will  hold  but  3,000  ?  If  only 
a  part  are  to  be  accommodated,  will  some  one  tell  a 
better  method  than  open  competition  upon  fair  com 
mercial  principles?  For  the  secular  affairs  of  a 
church  are  just  as  commercial,  and  just  as  subject  to 
right  commercial  laws,  as  is  the  business  of  a  bank, 
a  manufactory,  an  academy  or  college. 

It  has  been  proposed  to  let  the  church-members 
have  a  chance  first,  and  then  give  the  world  what 
remains !  This  is  eminently  and  exquisitely  evan 
gelical  !  Let  Christians  take  care  of  themselves  first, 
and  then  give  sinners  the  crumbs!  Let  converted 
souls  become  insiders,  and  have  a  first  chance  at  the 
feast,  and  sit  with -a  preemption  right,  around  the 


294  PLYMOUTH   CHUKCH. 

Gospel  luxuries ;  and  when  they  are  sated,  let  the 
outside  sinners  gnaw  the  bones !  If  a  church  after 
ten  years'  preaching  has  got  along  only  so  far  as  to 
be  individually  and  corporately  selfish,  it  might  have 
done  that  without  the  trouble  and  expense  of  preach 
ing  and  organizing.  Selfishness  thrives  very  well 
without  means  of  grace  to  help  it ! 

It  is  thought  by  some,  and  by  our  correspondent, 
we  presume,  that  the  poor  should  be  first  provided 
for.  The  poor  should  be  held  in  lively  remembrance. 
Every  church  ought  to  keep  Christ's  feelings  for  the 
poor  and  ignorant  burning  in  the  heart  and  sanctuary, 
like  a  fire  that  never  goes  out. 

But  ought  we  to  provide  for  the  poor  in  a  way  that 
shall  punish  those  who  are  not  poor?  Are  we  to 
exclude  men  from  churches,  whose  industry,  patience 
and  frugality,  have  made  them  affluent  ?  Shall  such 
a  practice  of  Christian  virtues  in  worldly  matters  as 
rewards  men  with  worldly  substance,  work  their  ex 
clusion?  A  man  ought  not  to  be  punished  for  being 
legitimately  prosperous ! 

But  our  correspondent  says  :  "  Who  are  the  men 
that  have  bid  off  the  pews  at  a  great  premium,  to 
the  exclusion  of  500  church-members  and  many 
others,  who  desired  the  benefits  of  the  pastor's 
labors?" 

We  will  tell  him  who  they  are.  They  are  men  who 
have  souls  to  be  saved  or  lost.  They  are  men,  who, 
if  rich,  need  preaching  all  the  more  because  they  are 
rich.  They  are  men  who  have  families  just  as  dear 
to  them  as  if  they  wrere  poor.  They  are  men  with 
little  boys  and  girls,  with  sons  and  daughters,  under 


PLYMOUTH    CHURCH.  295 

temptation  and  needing  guidance.  They  are  men 
who  are  peculiarly  liable  to  self-indulgence,  to  selfish 
luxury,  to  pride  and  hardness  of  heart,  and  who  re 
quire  all  the  aid  of  faithful  preaching  to  incline  them 
to  humility,  generosity,  and  benevolence  !  The  poor 
need  the  Gospel  for  reasons  peculiar  to  their  condi 
tion,  and  the  rich  just  as  much  for  reasons  peculiar  to 
their  estate. 

But,  in  the  particular  case  in  hand,  those  who  have 
bid  off  pews  at  high  premiums,  are  men,  many  of 
them,  who,  when  we  took  this  pastorate  were  just 
beginning  a  business  life,  and  have  grown  up  to  ripe 
manhood  side  by  side  with  us.  They  are,  many  of 
them,  those  whom  we  married,  whose  children  we 
baptized,  or  whose  hearts  we  comforted  in  the  hour 
in  which,  over  small  open  graves,  they  strove  to  write 
in  their  hearts,  "  Thy  will  be  done,"  but  found  that 
tears  washed  out  the  letters  as  fast  as  they  were  writ 
ten.  They  are  the  very  persons,  in  a  great  number 
of  cases,  who,  under  our  teaching,  have  beheld  a 
great  light,  and  have  learned  to  say,  "  Our  Father," 
to  God,  with  their  whole  heart ! 

It  is  very  easy  for  men  "  who  do  not  live  in  large 
cities  to  believe  that  it  is  right  or  Christian  for  one 
congregation  to  expend  $25,000  for  themselves,  etc." 
If  men  that  have  money  knew  what  to  do  with  it 
half  as  well  as  those  do,  who  give  them  advice  with 
out  knowing  anything  about  their  affairs,  what  a 
thrifty  world  this  would  be  !  What  a  church  spends 
annually  is  great  or  little,  according  to  circumstances. 
There  are  many  country  churches  where  $2,500  a  year 
would  be  more  extravagant  than  in  others  would  be 


296  PLYMOUTH   CHURCH. 

$25,000.  But  in  this  particular  case  the  surplus 
funds  are  employed  in  paying  off  the  debts  and 
mortgages  which  lie  upon  the  property,  and  we  hope 
that  it  is  not  unchristian  for  a  church  to  pay  its  honest 
debts ! 

And,  in  closing,  we  will  only  say,  that,  from  the 
beginning,  no  church  ever  more  conscientiously 
endeavored  to  give  the  Gospel  to  all  classes,  rich  or 
poor,  resident  or  strangers.  For  ten  years  the  mem 
bers  of  this  society  have  cheerfully  submitted  to  an 
inconvenience  for  the  sake  of  the  poor  and  of 
strangers,  such  as  has  rarely  had  a  parallel.  Gentle 
men  have  paid  hundreds  of  dollars  for  pews,  which 
were,  with  the  exception  of  a  single  Sabbath  in  the 
year,  more  or  less  filled  with  the  poor.  Hundreds  of 
men  have  been  very  cheerfully  excluded  Sabbath 
after  Sabbath  from  their  pews,  for  the  sake  of  accom 
modating  strangers.  Every  Sabbath  day,  families 
wrho  have  paid  hundreds  of  dollars  for  a  pew,  com 
ing  to  church,  find  it  preoccupied  by  the  poor  and  the 
stranger,  and  it  is  the  rare  exception  that,  in  such  a 
case,  there  is  any  irritation.  Generally,  the  owner 
distributes  his  family  as  best  he  can,  takes  a  seat  in 
the  aisles,  or  stands  up  in  the  entry.  And  this  is  not 
an  occasional  thing.  It  is  the  regular  experience  of 
the  congregation,  year  after  year.  And  we  submit 
to  all  who  think  as  our  friend  above  writes,  whether 
the  endeavor  of  a  large  Christian  church  to  conduct 
themselves  hospitably,  kindly,  charitably,  to  all  ranks 
and  conditions  of  men  rich  or  poor,  black  or  white, 
bond  or  free,  and  who  pay  large  "  sums  for  the  conve 
nience  of  welcome  strangers,  and  of  their  neighbors 


PLYMOUTH    CHURCH.  297 

not  less  welcome,  ought  to  be  rewarded  with  repre 
sentations  which  lead  the  public  to  think  that  Ply 
mouth  church  is  a  bazaar  of  pews,  bought  and  sold 
by  selfish,  speculating,  rich  men ! 


13* 


OBGAN-PLAYItfG. 

THE  Organ,  long  expected,  has  arrived,  been  un 
packed,  set  up,  and  gloried  over.  The  great  players 
of  the  region  round  about,  or  of  distant  celebrity, 
have  had  the  grand  organ  exhibition ;  and  this  mag 
nificent  instrument  has  been  put  through  all  its  paces, 
in  a  manner  which  has  surprised  every  one,  and,  if  it 
had  had  a  conscious  existence,  must  have  surprised 
the  organ  itself  most  of  all.  It  has  piped,  fluted, 
trumpeted,  brayed,  thundered ;  it  has  played  so  loud 
that  everybody  was  deafened,  and  so  soft  that  nobody 
could  hear.  The  pedals  played  for  thunder,  the  flutes 
languished  and  coquetted,  and  the  swell  died  away  in 
delicious  suffocation,  like  one  singing  a  sweet  song 
under  the  bedclothes.  Now  it  leads  down  a  stupen 
dous  waltz  with  full  bass,  sounding  very  much  as  if, 
in  summer,  a  thunder-storm  should  play  above  our 
heads,  "  Come,  haste  to  the  wedding,"  or  "  Money- 
Musk."  Then  come  marches,  gallops,  and  hornpipes. 
An  organ  playing  hornpipes  ought  to  have  elephants 
for  dancers. 

At  length  a  fugue  is  to  show  the  whole  scope  and 
power  of  the  instrument.  The  theme,  like  a  cautious 
rat,  peeps  out  to  see  if  the  coast  is  clear ;  and  after  a 
few  hesitations,  comes  forth  and  begins  to  frisk  a  lit 
tle,  and  run  up  and  down  to  see  what  it  can  find.  It 


298 


ORGAN-PLAYING.  299 

finds  just  what  it  did  not  want,  a  purring  tenor  lying 
in  ambusli  and  waiting  for  a  spring,  and  as  the  theme 
comes  incautiously  near,  the  savage  cat  of  a  tenor 
pitches  at  it,  misses  its  hold,  and  then  takes  after  it 
with  terrible  earnestness.  But  the  tenor  has  miscalcu 
lated  the  agility  of  the  theme.  All  that  it  could  do, 
with  the  most  desperate  eifort,  was  to  keep  the  theme 
from  running  back  into  its  hole  again,  and  so  they  ran 
up  and  down,  around  and  around,  dodging,  eluding, 
whipping  in  and  out  of  every  corner  and  nook,  till 
the  whole  organ  was  aroused,  and  the  bass  began  to 
take  part,  but  unluckily  slipped  and  rolled  down 
stairs,  and  lay  at  the  bottom  raving  and  growling  in 
the  most  awful  -manner,  and  nothing  could  appease 
it.  Sometimes  the  theme  was  caught  by  one  part, 
and  dandled  for  a  moment,  when,  with  a  snatch, 
another  part  took  it  and  ran  oif  exultant,  until  una 
wares  the  same  trick  was  played  on  it,  and  finally,  all 
the  parts  being  greatly  exercised  in  mind,  began  to 
chase  each  other  promiscuously  in  and  out,  up  and  down, 
now  separating  and  now  rushing  in  full  tilt  together, 
until  everything  in  the  organ  loses  patience,  and  all 
the  "  stops  "  are  drawn,  and,  in  spite  of  all  that  the 
brave  organist  could  do — who  flew  about  and  bobbed 
up  and  down,  feet,  hands,  head,  and  all — the  tune 
broke  up  into  a  real  row,  and  every  part  was  clubbing 
every  other  one,  until  at  length,  patience  being  no 
longer  a  virtue,  the  organist  with  two  or  three  terri 
fic  crashes  put  an  end  to  the  riot,  and  brought  the 
great  organ  back  to  silence ! 

Then  came  congratulations.     The  organist  shook 
hands  with  the  builder,  and  the  builder  shook  hands 


300  ORGAN-PLAYING. 

with  the  organist,  and  both  of  them  shook  hands  with 
the  committee ;  and  the  young  men  who  thought  it 
their  duty  to  know  something  about  music  looked 
wise,  and  the  young  ladies  looked  wise  too,  and  the 
minister  looked  silly,  and  the  parishioners  generally 
looked  stupid,  and  all  agreed  that  there  never  was 
such  an  organ — no,  never.  And  the  builder  assured 
the  committee  that  he  had  done  a  little  more  than  the 
contract  stipulated ;  for  he  was  very  anxious  to  have 
a  good  organ  in  that  church !  And  the  wise  men  of  - 
the  committee  talked  significantly  of  what  a  treasure 
they  had  got.  The  sexton  gave  a  second  look  at  the 
furnace,  lest  the  church  should  take  it  into  its  head, 
now,  of  all  times,  to  burn  up  ;  and  he  gave  the  key 
an  extra  twist  in  the  lock,  lest  some  thief  should  run 
off  with  the  organ. 

And  now,  who  shall  play  the  organ  ?  is  the  ques 
tion.  And  in  the  end,  who  has  not  played  it  ?  First 
perhaps,  a  lady  who  teaches  music  is  exalted  to  the 
responsibility.  Her  taste  is  cultivated,  her  nerves 
are  line,  her  muscles  feeble,  her  courage  small,  and 
her  fear  great.  She  touches  the  great  organ  as  if  she 
were  a  trembling  worshipper,  fearing  to  arouse  some 
terrible  deity.  All  the  meek  stops  are  used,  but  none 
of  the  terrible  ones,  and  the  great  instrument  is  made 
to  walk  in  velvet  slippers  every  Sabbath,  and  after 
each  stanza  the  organ  humbly  repeats  the  last  strain 
in  the  tune.  The  instrument  is  quite  subdued.  It 
is  the  modern  exemplification  of  Ariadne  riding 
safely  on  a  tamed  leopard.  But  few  women  have 
strength  for  the  mechanical  labor.  It  ought  not  to 
be  so.  "Women  ought  to  have  better  health,  more 


ORGAN-PLAYING.  301 

muscle,  more  power,  and,  one  of  these  days,  doubt 
less,  will  have. 

Next,  an  amateur  player  is  procured,  who  was  said 
to  have  exquisite  taste  and  finished  execution.  A 
few  pieces  for  the  organ  he  knew  by  heart,  a  pretty 
way  of  varying  a  theme,  a  sentimental  feeling,  and 
reasonable  correctness  in  accompaniment. 

Next  came  an  Organist,  who  believed  that  all  this 
small  playing,  this  petty  sweetness,  was  a  disgrace  to 
the  powers  of  the  instrument.  He  meant  to  lead 
forth  the  long  pent-up  force,  and  accordingly  he  took 
for  his  first  theme,  apparently,  the  Deluge,  and  the 
audience  had  it  poured  upon  them  in  every  conceiv 
able  form — wind,  rain,  floods,  thunder,  lightning, 
with  all  the  promiscuous  stops,  which  are  put  in  all 
large  organs  to  produce  a  screeching  brilliancy,  full 
drawn,  to  signify  universal  misery  and  to  produce  it. 
That  man  gave  the  church  their  full  money's  worth. 
He  flooded  the  house.  The  voices  of  the  choir  were 
like  birds  chirping  in  a  thunder-storm.  He  had 
heard  that  the  singing  of  a  congregation  should  be 
borne  up  upon  the  music  of  the  organ  and  as  it  were 
floated,  and  he  seemed  to  be  aiming,  for  the  most 
part,  to  provide  a  full  Atlantic  ocean  for  the  slender 
choir  to  make  its  stormy  voyages  upon. 

A  fortunate  quarrel  disposed  of  him,  and  the 
Organ  went  back  to  the  tender  performer.  But  be 
fore  long  a  wonderful  man  was  called,  whose  fame, 
as  he  related  it,  was  excessive.  He  could  do  any 
thing — play  anything.  If  one  style  did  not  suit,  j  ust 
give  him  a  hint,  and  lie  would  take  on  another.  He 
could  give  you  opera,  ecclesiastical  music,  stately 


OKGAN-PLAYING. 


symphony  of  Beethoven,  the  brilliant  fripperies  of 
Verdi,  the  solemn  and  simple  grandeur  of  Handel, 
or  the  last  waltz,  the  most  popular  song  (suitably 
converted  for  the  purpose) — anything,  in  short.  The 
church  must  surely  be  hard  to  please,  if  he  could  not 
suit  them.  He  opened  his  organ  as  a  peddler  opens 
his  tin  boxes,  and  displaying  all  its  wares,  says,  Now, 
what  do  you  wrant  ?  Here  is  a  little  of  almost  every 
thing  ! 

He  took  his  turn.  Then  came  a  young  man  of  a 
true  and  deep  nature,  to  whom  music  was  simply  a 
symbol  of  something  higher,  a  language  which  in 
itself  is  but  little,  but  a  glorious  thing  when  laden 
with  the  sentiments  and  thoughts  of  a  great  heart. 
But  he  was  not  a  Christian  man,  and  the  organ  was 
not  to  him  a  Christian  instrument,  but  simply  a 
grand  gothic  instrument,  to  be  studied,  just  as  a 
Protestant  would  study  a  cathedral,  in  the  mere  spirit 
of  architecture,  and  not  at  all  in  sympathy  with  its 
religious  significance  or  uses.  And  before  long  he 
went  abroad  to  perfect  himself  in  his  musical  studies. 
But  not  till  a  most  ludicrous  event  befell  him.  On 
a  Christmas  day  a  great  performance  was  to  be 
given.  The  church  was  full.  All  were  musically 
expectant.  It  had  been  given  out  that  something 
might  be  expected.  And  surely  something  was  had 
a  little  more  than  was  expected.  For,  when  every 
stop  was  drawn,  that  the  opening  might  be  with  a 
sublime  choral  effect,  the  down-pressing  of  his  hands 
brought  forth  not  only  the  full  expected  chord,  but 
also  a  cat,  that  by  some  strange  chance  had  got  into 
the  organ.  She  went  up  over  the  top  as  if  gun- 


ORGAN-PLATING.  303 

powder  had  helped  her.  Down  she  plunged  into  the 
choir,  took  the  track  around  the  front  bulwark  of  the 
gallery,  until  opposite  the  pulpit,  whence  she  dashed 
down  one  of  the  supporting  columns,  made  for  the 
broad  aisle,  where  a  little  dog  joined  in  the  affray, 
and  both  wrent  down  toward  the  street  door  at  an 
astonishing  pace.  Our  organist,  who,  on  the  first 
appearance  of  this  element  in  his  piece,  snatched 
back  his  hands,  had  forgotten  to  relax  his  muscles, 
and  was  to  be  seen  following  the  cat  with  his  eyes, 
with  his  head  turned,  while  his  astonished  hands 
stood  straight  out  before  him,  rigid  as  marble ! 

But  in  all  these  vicissitudes,  and  in  all  this  long 
series  of  players,  good  playing  has  been  the  acci 
dent,  while  the  thing  meant  and  attempted  has  been, 
in  the  main,  a  perversion  of  music,  a  breaking  of  the 
Sabbath  day,  and  a  religious  nuisance.  The  onlv 
alleviation  in  the  case  was,  that  the  general  ignorance 
of  the  proper  function  of  church-music  saved  the 
Christian  congregation  from  feeling  what  an  outrage 
they  had  suffered.  But,  we  must  try  this  topic  once 
more,  before  we  can  get  it  fairly  finished. 


HOW    TO   BECOME   A    CHRISTIAN.* 

THERE  cannot  be  too  much  effort  made  to  bring 
before  the  minds  of  men  the  truths  of  Christ,  But, 
when  men  are  made  attentive  to  them,  it  seems  to 
me,  that  they  should  be  mado.  to  feel  the  obligation 
to  obey  Christ,  without  so  much  urging,  conversation, 
and  persuasive  labor.  Among  uneducated  heathen, 
it  would  be  different ;  but  in  a  Christian  country, 
where  you  have  literally  known  almost  nothing  else 
than  the  truths  of  the  Gospel,  presented  not  alone 
in  the  didactic  and  logical  form,  but  presented 
evermore  in  that  most  blessed  form  in  which  the- true 
Gospel  is  preached,  namely,  in  the  example  of  a 
praying  father,  a  praying  mother,  a  praying  brother 
or  sister,  a  consistent  friend,  wife  or  child,  nothing 
.  more  ought  to  be  required.  How  men  that  have 
been  taught  in  the  household  and  in  the  church, 
by  example  as  well  as  by  precept,  should  fall  into 
the  mistake  of  supposing  that  whenever  they  begin 
to  be  inquirers  they  need  then  to  go  through 
another  and  special  course  of  training,  I  cannot  un 
derstand.  I  do  not  think  that  there  is  an  intelligent 

*  An  Address   delivered  at  a  religious  meeting   in    Burton's   Old 
Theatre. 


HOW   TO   BECOME    A    CHRISTIAN.  305 

man  in  tins  congregation  that  is  not  abundantly  quali 
fied  to-day,  before  the  sun  goe  s  down,  to  become  a 
true  Christian  in  the  spiritual  and  experimental  sense 
of  the  term. 

More  than  that.  Unless  there  has  been  some  kind 
of  an  official  touch,  a  man's  conversion  is  scarcely 
thought  to  be  complete  ;  unless  some  appointed  class- 
leader,  some  elder,  some  deacon,  above  all,  some 
minister,  some  eminent  minister,  has  talked  with  him, 
explained  it  to  him,  upheld  him  in  this  hour,  encour 
aged  his  hope  and  brought  him  clear  out,  he  does  not 
feel  as  though  he  were  right.  Whatever  may  be  the 
hope  he  enjoys,  there  is  still  the  impression  that 
the  work  of  grace  requires  the  interposition  of  some 
official  instruction. 

I  wish  you  to  be  rid  of  this.  A  man  who  knows 
enough  to  take  care  of  his  business,  to  live  obediently 
to  the  laws  of  the  land,  to  live  in  the  affections  of  the 
family,  knows  enough  to  begin  a  Christian  life. 
Religion  and  religious  doctrines  are  very  different 
things.  We  do  not  ask  you  to  accept  a  theory  of 
religious  doctrine ;  nor  any  system  of  philosophy. 
We  ask  you  simply  to  begin  a  religious  life  and  to 
begin  it  now. 

Are  you  willing  to  be  a  Christian?  Are  you 
willing  from  this  hour  to  hold  your  disposition,  your 
life-powers,  and  all  your  business,  under  the  control 
of  Christ?  Will  you  go  to  school  to  Christ  and 
become  a  scholar,  for  the  sake  of  learning  how  to  live 
aright  ?  For,  if  you  will,  then  you  are  a  disciple  of 
Christ.  Disciple  means  scholar.  A.  Christian  is 
nothing  but  a  sinful  man  who  has  put  himself  to 


306  HOW   TO   BECOME   A    CHRISTIAN-. 

school  to  Christ  for  the  honest  purpose  of  becoming 
better. 

It  is  not  needful  that  you  should  have  a  great  deal 
of  feeling.  Willingness  to  obey  the  will  of  Christ 
as  fast  as  it  is  made  known  to  you  is  better  than  feel 
ing.  It  is  not  necessary  for  you  to  go  through  such 
a  period  of  conviction  of  sin,  as  some  men  have.  If 
you  see  the  evil  of  your  sinful  life  enough  to  wish  to 
forsake  it,  that  is  repentance  enough  to  begin  with. 
Repentance  is  good  for  nothing  except  to  turn  away 
a  man  from  evil,  and  you  need  not  wait  for  any  more 
than  will  suffice  for  that.  The  less  feeling  there  is 
required  to  effect  a  moral  revolution  the  better. 

I  would  not  have  you  wait  for  ministers,  or  for 
Christians.  You  can  be  a  Christian  without  help 
from  either.  They  will  gladly  help  you.  But  you 
ought  not  to  lean  on  them.  Go  to  your  own  work  at 
once.  It  is  a  question  between  your  soul  and  God. 
Will  you  acknowledge  God  as  your  Father  ?  Will 
you,  from  this  hour,  make  it  your  business  to  con 
duct  your  whole  life  in  accordance  with  God's  will 
revealed  in  the  Gospel  of  Christ  ? 

You  may  become  a  Christian  now,  and  go  home  to 
•  your  household,  and  be  enabled  to  ask  a  blessing  at 
your  table  to-day ;  you  may  stretch  forth  your  hands, 
to  the  amazement  of  your  wife  and  children,  and, 
like  a  Christian  man,  ask  a  blessing  upon  your  dinner, 
though  it  may  be  the  first  time  in  your  life ;  you 
may  go  home  to  night  and  begin  family  prayers 
where  the  sound  of  your  voice  in  prayer  has  never 
been  heard.  I  urge  you  to  take  that  course,  and  to 
take  it  at  once. 


HOW    TO   BECOME   A   CHRISTIAN.  307 

The  word  of  God  requires  us  so  love  the  Lord  our 
God  with  all  our  heart,  with  all  our  soul,  with  all 
our  mind,  and  our  neighbor  as  ourself. 

Will  you  deliberately  undertake  to  begin  your  life 
over  again,  from  this  hour,  under  this  law  ?  Will 
you  undertake  to  regard  things  as  right  or  wrong,  as 
they  agree  or  disagree  with  that  rule?  Will  you 
acknowledge  yourself  bound,  henceforth,  to  act  under 
that  charter  ? 

"  Can  I,  then,  do  this  by  mere  volition  ?"  Can  you 
any  more  go  down  to  the  Battery  by  volition  ?  and 
yet  you  know  that  volition  will  produce  that  result. 
For  a  proper  volition  always  implies,  not  alone  a 
choice  of  a  thing,  but  also  all  the  steps  needed  to 
accomplish  this  end.  To  determine  that  you  will  be 
warm,  implies  kindling  a  fire,  or  putting  on  clothing, 
or  better  yet,  active  exercise.  You  cannot  be  rich 
by  wishing,  but  by  choosing  you  can  ;  for  choosing 
a  thing  always  implies  that  you  choose  the  appro 
priate  means  of  obtaining  it.  And  so  every  man 
may  come  into  that  state  of  love  and  benevolence 
required  by  Christ,  if  he  will  employ  the  word  of  God, 
prayer  as  the  inspiration  and  daily  practice  in  ordi 
nary  conduct,  as  the  means. 

"  But  can  I  suddenly,  in  a  moment,  reconstruct  my 
character,  change  my  conduct,  alter  my  relations  to 
things  that  are  wrong,  and  be  a  thorough  Christian  in 
a  moment  ?"  No  ;  you  cannot  be  a  perfect  Christ 
ian  in  a  moment,  but  you  can  begin  to  be  an  imper 
fect  Christian  in  a  moment.  A  man  cannot  make  a 
journey  in  an  instant,  but  he  can  begin  instantly 
A  man  cannot  cleanse  his  hands  in  a  moment,  but  ho 


308  HOW    TO    BECOME    A    CHRISTIAN. 

can  begin  to  wash.  A  man  cannot  reclaim  a  piece 
of  land  in  an  hour,  but  lie  can  begin  the  work,  with 
the  determination  to  perform  the  whole.  The  prodi 
gal  son  could  not  go  back  to  his  father  at  one  step, 
but  he  could  determine  to  perform  the  whole  journey, 
and  take  the  first  step,  and  the  next,  and  the  next, 
perseveringly,  and  in  right  good  earnest.  Thus,  to  be 
a  Christian  is  to  enter  upon  a  life  which  has  its  im 
perfect  beginning,  its  rude  development,  its  imper 
fections  and  mistakes,  its  successive  states  of  growth, 
its  gradual  attainments,  and  its  full  final  perfection 
only  in  another  world. 

"  But,  is  it  right  to  call  myself  a  Christian,  when  I 
do  not  do  everything  that  Christ  commands?"  If 
you  mean  to  obey  in  everything,  if  you  are  pained 
when  you  fail,  if  you  resist  evil,  and  seek  deliverance 
from  it,  Christ  will  prove  to  you  the  most  lenient  and 
gracious  teacher  that  scholar  ever  had.  A  child  is 
not  expelled  from  school  for  one  poor  lesson,  nor  for 
much  dullness,  nor  for  heedlessness,  nor  for  disobedi 
ence,  if  the  teacher  knows  that,  on  the  whole,  the 
child  means  to  be  a  good  scholar,  if  he  confesses  his 
faults  and  strives  to  amend.  God  brings  up  those 
who  become  his  children  with  a  great  deal  more 
patience,  a  great  deal  more  forbearance,  and  tender 
ness  of  love,  than  any  mother  exercises  toward  a  diffi 
cult  and  fractious  child.  No  faults  lead  her  to  give 
him  up,  so  long  as  there  is  hope  that  at  length  he 
will  do  better,  and  do  well.  And  God  is  greater  in 
love  than  any  mother. 

And,  if  you  will  now  accept  this  law  of  love,  hold 
yourself  bound  by  it,  undertake  to  carry  it  out  every 


H0W   TO   BECOME   A   CHRISTIAN.  309 

clay,  not  be  discouraged  by  failures,  persevere  in  spite 
of  imperfections,  you  shall  find  in  Christ  such  gra- 
ciousness,  such  a  forbearing  and  forgiving  nature,  as 
you  will  never  find  in  any  man. 

The  moment  that  you  realize  this  goodness  of 
Christ,  his  helpfulness  to  you,  his  lenient,  forgiving, 
sympathizing  spirit,  then  you  know  what  faith  in 
Christ  means.  If  such  a  Saviour  attracts  you  and 
you  strive  all  the  more  ardently,  from  love  toward 
him,  and  trust  in  him,  then  you  are  a  Christian  :  not 
a  religious  man  merely,  but  a  Christian. 

A  man  may  worship  through  awe,  or  through  a 
sense  of  duty,  and  I  think  there  are  hundreds  of  men 
in  the  churches  who  are  only  religious  men,  and  not 
Christians.  A  man  who  feels  toward  God  only  awe 
or  fear ;  who  obeys  merely  from  a  sense  of  duty ;  who 
is  under  the  dominion  of  conscience  rather  than  of 
love,  may  be  religious,  but  he  is  not  a  Christian. 
Such  men  live  by  conscience,  they  live  by  a  bond, 
bound  by  fear.  Their  life  is  literally  one  of  service  ; 
they  are  fatally  servants  of  God,  not  in  the  sense  in 
which  the  words  are  largely  used  in  the  Scriptures, 
meaning  simply  disciples  of  Christ,  but  they  are  most 
literally  God's  hired  men,  or  worse — God's  bondmen. 
Men  must  learn  no  longer  merely  to  fear  God,  no 
longer  to  tremble  as  before  the  tyrannical  master  of  a 
despotic  government ;  but  to  come  unto  Him  through 
Jesus  Christ,  and  say,  "Lord,  I  love  thee,  I  trust  thee, 
and  I  will  serve  thee  because  I  love  thee." 

Any  man  who  knows  enough  to  love  his  children, 
his  father,  mother,  brother  or  sister,  has  theological 
knowledge  enough  to  know  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 

14 


310  HOW    TO   BECOME    A    CHRISTIAN. 

Now  the  question  is  this :  Do  you  choose  to  do  it  ? 
If  we  were  to  put  this  question  to  any  of  you :  Do 
you  really  choose  to  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ?  I 
suppose  every  man  of  you  would  say,  "  I  do."  But 
stop,  there  is  a  great  distinction  between  desiring  a 
thing  and  choosing  a  thing  ;  a  man  may  desire  with 
out  choosing.  Do  you  suppose  there  is  a  man  in  the 
Tombs  who  does  not  desire  to  be  an  honest  man? 
But  he  does  not  choose  to  be  ;  there  are  other  things 
which  he  desires  more  than  that ;  he  desires  money 
more  than  lie  does  honesty ;  he  desires  the  means  of 
debauchery  and  revelry  more  than  he  does  honesty. 
Probably  there  is  not  a  man  given  to  his  cups,  in  the 
city  of  New  York,  who,  if  you  should  ask  him,  "Do 
you  not  desire  to  become  a  reformed  and  temperate 
man  ?"  would  not  say,  Yes.  He  desires  it,  but  IIQ 
does  not  choose  it;  there  are  other  things  that  he 
desires  more,  and  he  chooses  the  things  which  he 
desires  most. 

Ask  a  poor  ragged  vagabond,  "  Do  you  not  desire 
riches  ?"  Of  course,  he  says  he  does.  But  he  does 
not  choose  it,  and  you  cannot  make  him  choose  it ; 
he  does  desire  to  be  rich,  but  he  desires  to  be  lazy 
much  more  than  that — therefore  lie  is  a  vagabond. 
A  man  desires  to  be  a  scholar,  but  he  does  not  choose 
k,  because  he  likes  his  leisure  much  better  than  appli 
cation.  You  desire  an  article  of  merchandise  which 
you  see  along  the  street ;  but  when  you  inquire  the 
price,  you  will  not  take  it  because  you  desire  the 
money  more.  Almost  every  man  desires  something 
which  he  does  not  choose.  We  are  full  of  desires, 
but  we  only  choose  those  things  for  the  possession  of 


HOW   TO   BECOME   A   CHRISTIAN.  311 

which  we  are  willing  to  deny  the  solicitation  of  all 
antagonistic  desires.  That  man  who  is  willing  to  fore 
go  everything  that  stands  in  the  way  of  the  object 
which  he  desires,  that  man  only  can  be  said  to  have 
chosen  it. 

Now  I  put  the  question  to  you,  Do  you  desire  the 
love  of  Christ  ?  Do  you  desire  it  more  than  you  do 
your  pleasures,  more  than  ambition,  more  than  selfish 
indulgences?  Are  you  willing  to  say  before  God,  I 
desire  it  more  than  all  things  in  the  world  ?  If  you 
do,  I  know  not  why  you  should  not  at  once  begin  to 
be  Christian.  You  are  competent  to  choose  your 
business;  you  do  not  need  to  ask  any  lawyers,  doc 
tors  or  ministers  in  order  to  do  that.  You  are  com 
petent  to  choose  your  own  course  of  life ;  you  are 
competent  to  choose  your  own  pleasures,  and  you 
never  think  of  asking  of  others  how  to  secure  them. 
Why  do  you  not  stand  upon  your  own  power — or 
rather  upon  God's  power,  which  works  within  yours 
— and  become  a  Christian  by  your  own  volition,  just 
as  you  become  a  lawyer,  a  physician,  a  merchant,  a 
traveller,  a  scholar  ? 

Why  do  you  not  take  three  minutes  of  this  sove 
reign  power  of  choice,  to  become  a  Christian?  A 
man  perhaps  will  say,  "  I  desire  to  make  that  choice 
to-day."  "What  he  ought  to  say  is  this:  "  I  make  the 
choice.  I  make  it  now,  and  forever.  I  do  in  the 
presence  of  Almighty  God,  with  all  my  soul  deter 
mine,  that  I  will,  through  the  love  of  Christ,  make 
his  wish,  the  supreme  law  of  my  life  within  and 
without.  Not  only  in  my  relation  directly  to  God, 
but  in  all  my  conduct  toward  my  fellow-men,  I  will 


HOW    TO    BECOME    A    CHRISTIAN. 

be  governed  by  the  revealed  wish  and  law  of  God. 
Trusting  to  his  mercy  for  pardon  in  all  things  wherein 
1  come  short,  and  depending  on  him  for  strength, 
I  will  make  my  work  his  work,  and  try  like  Jesus 
to  find  my  meat  and  drink  in  doing  God's  holy 
will."  Who  of  you  can  solemnly  promise  this  before 
God  ?  Look  at  it  all  around  and  decide.  Who  can 
say,  not  that  he  will  not  be  imperfect  in  carrying  it 
out,  but  who  can  say,  "that  is  to  be  my  idea  of  life, 
that  is  to  be  my  model,  after  which  I  am  this  hour 
and  henceforth  forever  to  strive  ?"  Is  there  a  man 
who  can  take  that  step  ?  But,  you  say,  "  a  man  may 
take  that  step,  and  may  become  by  mere  choice  a 
Christian  in  that  way  ;  but  there  is  no  love  springs  up 
— there  is  no  grace  in  his  heart  or  soul ;  and  how  is  he 
to  have  that  peace,  that  joy,  that  rest,  that  we  hear 
Christians  talking  about  ?  In  other  words,  how  is  a 
man  to  have  in  his  soul  the  sweet  sense  that  his  power 
is  not  in  himself,  but  of  Christ  ?"  I  answer,  the  Lord 
will  send  that — but  in  his  own  way  and  time.  Leave 
it  to  him. 

If  feeling  comes  first,  let  it  come.  But  do  not  wait 
for  it.  Move  on.  Follow  your  decision  upon  the 
patli  of  duty,  and  you  will  by  and  by  have  all  the 
feeling  you  need.  Jesus  Christ  sits  on  the  throne  of 
the  universe  for  the  very  purpose  of  giving  sympathy 
and  effectual  help  to  every  man  who  says,  "  Lord,  I 
am  needy;  Lord,  I  am  bestormed  and  out  of  my 
course,  and  I  come  to  thee  for  sympathy  and  assis 
tance."  Upon  that  ground  we  are  to  look  to  Christ ; 
we  have  the  power  to  choose  him,  and,  if  we  do,  we 
shall  feel  that  mighty  love,  that  conscious  sympathy 


HOW   TO   BECOMp;   A   CHRISTIAN. 

and  presence,  that  power  of  God  upon  the  hea 
every  man,  which  shall  give  him  peace  and  joy.  If 
you  doubt,  come  unto  Christ  and  you  shall  know 
whether  it  does  not  make  you  blessed.  This  willing 
ness  on  your  part,  this  faith  in  Christ,  is  the  element 
that  shall  bring  you  in  the  right  direction,  to  a  con 
sciousness  of  peace  in  Jesus  Christ.  But  the  great 
trouble  is,  I  think,  that  you  do  not  wish  to  be  Christ 
ians  so  much  as  you  wish  other  things. 

One  of  the  most  memorable  things  that  took  place 
last  winter  was  the  opening  of  a  place  as  an  eating- 
house,  free  to  the  hungry,  in  one  of  the  streets  of 
this  city.  The  kind  actor  in  this  charity  thought  that 
he  had  no  better  way  to  use  his  money  than  to 
feed  the  hungry  and  the  poor  ;  so  he  opened  a  room 
and  made  this  declaration :  "  If  any  are  hungry,  here 
is  food  for  them ;  let  them  come  and  eat."  Now,  in 
the  case  of  certain  grades  of  men,  there  was  no  trouble 
about  it.  The  man  who  was  in  the  ditch,  and  so  low 
that  he  knew  that  he  was  a  miserable,  degraded  crea 
ture,  would  scramble  up  quickly  when  he  heard  of 
this  place ;  run  to  it  and  betake  himself  to  the  food 
with  almost  indecent  haste.  And  the  man  who  had 
been  dodging  around  from  one  expedient  to  another, 
till  now  he  was  nearly  famished  and  did  not  know 
where  to  go  to  keep  from  starvation,  hears  that  here 
there  were  great,  bountiful  rounds  of  beef  and  glo 
rious  loaves  of  bread,  any  quantity,  indeed,  of  provis 
ion,  and  away  he  runs  to  see  if  it  was  really  so  ;  he 
would  not  talk  much,  or  preach  much,  but  he  would 
practise  a  great  deal ;  for,  let  me  tell  you  that  your 
hungry  men  care  very  little  for  the  theory  of  eating 


314:  HOW   TO   BECOME   A   CHRISTIAN. 

or  digestion.  It  is  the  practice  which  they  dote 
upon. 

But  here  comes  a  man  who  has  been  more  respect 
able  :  he  has  lived  in  genteel  society  and  given  dinner 
parties  in  his  prosperous  days ;  the  times  have  been 
rather  hard  upon  him,  but  he  expects  that  the  spring 
will  set  him  up  all  right  again ;  he  has  been  home 
with  everybody  who  asked  him  to  eat,  has  been  to 
everybody's  house  but  his  own,  for  there  was  nothing 
to  eat  there  ;  he  has  borrowed  all  the  money  he  could, 
but  now  no  one  asks  him  to  dine,  and  he  can  borrow 
no  more.  He  has  gone  to  bed  hungry  at  night,  and 
oh!  what  dreams  he  has  had  out  of  that  gnawing 
stomach;  he  wakes  up  in  the  morning  and  says  to 
himself,  "  I  wonder  where  I  can  get  any  breakfast  ?" 
He  thinks  to  be  sure  of  that  dining-saloon  just  opened, 
where  there  is  plenty  of  food  to  be  had  for  nothing ; 
but  he  says,  "  I  cannot  go  down  there,  I  cannot  hum 
ble  myself  so  much  ;  I,  who  have  been  able,  and  in  the 
habit  of  giving  charity,  to  go  down  there  and  get  my 
food,  and  become  a  beggar?  I  can't  do  that!"  So, 
he  wanders  about  till  noon,  and  though  the  hunger 
gnaws  at  his  stomach,  and  he  is  faint  and  weary, 
he  will  not  go  in  yet,  so  lie  wanders  on  till  about  sun 
down. 

But  at  sun-down  he  says  to  himself — and  hunger  is 
an  excellent  logician — "After  all,  am  I  not  acting 
foolishly  ?  I  am  so  weak  I  can  hardly  stand,  and  it 
does  seem  to  me  that  I  cannot  sleep  to-night  for  the 
gnawings  of  hunger.  Oh,  how  I  want  this  food ;  I 
think  I  will  just  go  down  the  street."  So  away  he 
goes,  like  a  great  many  men  who  have  come  in  here 


HOW   TO   BECOME   A   CHRISTIAN.  315 

to-day,  saying  that  they  just  came  in  to  see  what  was 
going  on,  but  who  know  that  down  deep  in  their 
own  hearts  there  is  something  else  beside  curiosity 
which  they  cannot  resist.  Well,  away  he  goes  down 
the  street,  and  looks  in  to  see  who  is  there ;  then 
he  watches  to  see  if  anybody  is  looking  at  him,  or 
if  anybody  knows  him;  he  goes  away  and  walks 
up  the  square,  but  he  is  reminded  from  within  that 
he  had  better  come  back  again.  This  time  he  walks 
right  by  the  door,  and  looks  in  askance  to  see  if  any 
body  is  in  there ;  he  hears  the  cheerful  noise  of  the 
knives  and  forks,  smells  the  wholesome  food,  hears 
the  laughter  of  joyful  men,  hungry  men  doing  work 
meet  for  hunger.  Now,  suppose  that,  as  he  stands 
there,  he  should  see,  among  those  going  down,  the 
butcher  and  baker  loaded  with  great  piles  of  meat 
and  bread,  and  should  stop  them  to  say:  "I  am 
almost  dead  with  hunger,  I  have  been  invited  here  to 
take  something  to  eat,  but  before  I  go  down  I  should 
like  to  know  the  precise  process  by  which  flour  is 
made  into  bread !" — just  as  men  come  to  me,  wishing 
me  to  explain  to  them  the  doctrines  of  justification, 
sovereignty,  atonement,  and  other  things,  when  they 
are  dying  for  want  of  Christ's  loving  help !  So  this 
man  stops  the  baker  to  ask  him  how  bread  is  made, 
but  the  butcher  and  the  baker  step  in  with  their 
load. 

He  listens  again  to  the  cheerful  music  of  the 
rattling  dishes — and  there  is  no  such  music  to  a 
hungry  man's  ear,  and  says,  "  I  can't  go  in  yet ;  1 
am  not  satisfied  as  to  the  way  these  things  are  made." 
So  he  walks  away,  but  hunger  gives  him  another 


316  HOW    TO   BECOMK    A   CHRISTIAN. 

turn,  and  back  he  goes  and  looks  in  again,  and  says, 
"  If  it  wasn't  for — ,  if  it  wasn't  for — ;"  then  he 
looks  up  the  street  to  see  if  anybody  is  looking  at 
him,  and  says,  "I  will  just  go  down  one  step."  lie 
steps  dowrn,  and  the  attraction  is  so  great  that  he 
goes  in ;  nobody  seems  to  know  him,  nobody  seems 
surprised ;  he  reaches  out  his  hand  and  takes  hold  of 
a  dry  crust,  and  the  tears  come  into  his  eyes  as  he 
puts  it  into  his  mouth.  Oh,  how  sweet  it  is !  With 
that  he  sits  right  down  and  makes  a  feast,  and  as  he 
rises  up  again,  he  says  to  himself,  "  Oh,  what  a  fool  I 
was,  that  I  did  not  come  long  before  and  often."  Are 
there  not  just  such  fools  in  this  congregation  ?  You  go 
up  and  down,  to  and  fro,  before  Christ's  table,  when 
there  is  bread  that  will  cause  that  hunger  to  cease 
forever,  and  water  drawn  from  the  river  that  comes 
from  God's  throne;  and  yet  you  have  gone  back, 
thinking  what  your  \vife  Avould  say,  what  your  father 
would  say,  what  your  partner  would  say,  what  your 
gay  companions  would  say.  But  you  feel  the  gnaw- 
ings  of  hunger,  and,  as  you  look  at  the  spread  table, 
you  say,  "  Oh,  how  we  need  this  food,  but  we  dare 
not  come  and  take  it."  Oh !  it  is  shame,  pride,  or 
fear,  that  keeps  you  thus  back.  Oh,  if  there  was  only 
hunger  enough  to  bring  you  to  the  right  point,  then, 
having  once  tasted,  you  would  rise  up  from  that 
feast,  with  the  blessed  assurance  that  yet  once  again 
you  should  sit  down  at  a  still  nobler  table,  at  the 
marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb  ! 

Now,  if  there  are  any  in  this  congregation  that 
have  seen  the  bounty  spread  forth  in  the  love  of 
Christ,  which  they  can  have  "without  money  and 


HOW    TO   BECOME    A    CHRISTIAN.  317 

without  price,"  as  promised  by  Jesus  Christ,  do  not 
let  them  wait  for  somebody  to  explain  it  any  more. 
Try  it  yourselves  to-day  ! 

I  am  ashamed  of  myself,  often,  to  be  an  ob 
ject  of  more  faith  than  my  Saviour;  yet  I  have  per 
sons  coming  to  me  every  day  of  my  life,  with  their 
wants  and  troubles,  instead  of  going  to  Christ.  How 
eagerly  they  believe  every  statement  I  make;  how 
they  hang  upon  my  sympathy,  and  hope  I  will  let 
them  come  again  to-morrow.  I  say  to  myself,  if  you 
would  only  come  to  Christ  with  half  the  faith  that 
brings  you  to  me,  you  might  be  rejoicing  in  half  an 
hour.  Suppose  nowT,  that  instead  of  a  man  sinful 
and  erring  like  yourselves,  you  should  put  in  my 
place  the  august  form  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  full 
of  benignity,  glorious  with  goodness,  and  with  a 
sweetness  that  is  more  than  any  mother  ever  knew 
for  her  darling  child,  waiting  patiently,  bending  over 
you  and  saying,  "  Come  unto  me  and  take  my  yoke 
upon  you ;"  "  learn  of  me  and  ye  shall  find  rest  to 
your  souls,"  "for  he  that  cometh  unto  me  I  will  in 
no  wise  cast  out."  Suppose  you  should  hear  Jesus 
Christ  saying,  "  I  have  been  out  to  seek  and  search 
for  lost  men,  and  I  have  found  you,  and  I  am  per 
suading  you  to  come  to  me ;  believe  me  that  I  love 
you,  that  I  love  you  now."  If  there  is  a  man  that 
has  one  thought  toward  God,  it  is  because  the  love 
of  God  is  drawing  him  sympathetically  to  himself. 
It  is  a  blessed  thought  that  Jesus  Christ  is  longing 
for  you,  and  I  would  that  you  might  turn  still  more 
earnestly  to  Jesus  Christ  and  say,  "  Lord,  I  believe 
thce,  I  believe  thou  lovcst  me ;  I  believe  thou  desirest 


318  nOW    TO    BECOME   A    CHRISTIAN. 

to  make  me  thine,  and  from  tliis  hour  it  shall  be  the 
object  of  my  life  to  please  thee,  and  the  one  firm 
object  of  my  life  to  serve  thee."  Will  you  try  the 
effect  of  that  vow,  some  of  you,  to-day  ?  Try  it  at 
once,  even  now,  while  I  am  speaking. 

I  always  feel  most  for  those  who  are  furthest  from 
grace,  perhaps  because  I  see  in  them  some  likeness 
to  myself.  But  my  Master  also  had  a  special  re 
gard  for  such.  One  of  the  most  touching  things  in 
the  life  of  Christ,  is  the  way  in  which  the  wretched 
looked  at  him.  The  literary,  the  philosophical,  the 
rich,  the  great  political  men  of  that  day  did  not  think 
much  of  Christ ;  but  he  had  such  a  sweet  way  of 
carrying  himself  in  all  Jerusalem,  that  whenever  he 
went  into  a  house  to  sit  down  and  rest,  all  the  vaga 
bonds  and  wretches  came  round  about  him,  as  though 
he  was  their  patron.  They  felt  "somebody  cares 
for  me ;  somebody,  instead  of  thumping  me  with  a 
truncheon,  instead  of  putting  my  hands  in  manacles, 
loves  and  cares  for  me."  They  did  not  know  what 
to  make  of  the  quiet,  gentle  effect  of  the  character  of 
Christ ;  and  wherever  he  went  all  manner  of  wicked 
men  poured  round  about  him.  Such  was  his  sweet 
ness  that  all  the  wretched  and  miserable  came  to  see 
him ;  such  was  the  impression  he  made  upon  the 
lowest  class  in  Jerusalem.  Why  should  we  not  all 
be  like  him  ? 

Whenever  I  know  of  a  man  that  nobody  else  prays 
for,  it  seems  as  if  iny  heart  would  break  for  him.  If 
I  hear  of  a  man  that  has  broken  away  from  all 
instruction,  instead  of  saying,  "he  is  a  devil,  I 
would  much  rather  say  he  is  my  brother,  and  I 


HOW    TO    BECOME   A    CHRISTIAN.  319 

must  heartily  pray  for  him."  When  I  walk  up 
Broadway,  'tis  a  pain  to  me  to  look  up  and  down  the 
street  and  see  so  many,  with  apparently  nobody  to 
care  for  their  souls.  Now,  if  there  is  in  this  house 
to-day  any  man  who  is  wicked  and  degraded  ;  if  there 
is  any  man  who  sells  rum — and  that  makes  about  as 
bad  a  man  as  can  be  in  this  world — I  don't  say  this 
to  hurt  your  feelings,  but  because,  as  a  servant  of 
Christ,  I  must  talk  plainly  to  every  man ; — if  there  is  a 
man  in  this  congregation  that  has  gotten  his  living  by 
stealing,  from  the  most  vulgar  form  of  stealing  up  to 
the  most  respectable,  genteel  way  in  which  so-called 
honest  men  steal,  and  call  it  financiering ;  if  there  are 
any  who  live  in  any  way  discreditably  in  the  eye  of  the 
world  or  in  the  eye  of  God ;  any  who  make  catering 
to  lust  or  passion  their  means  of  livelihood  ;  if  there 
are  any  who  have  stood  upon  these  boards,  not  to 
instruct,  but  simply  to  amuse  or  degrade  their  fellow- 
men  ;  actors,  managers,  or  any  others — give  me  your 
hand,  you  are  my  brethren !  It  is  the  blood  of  Christ 
that  makes  you  and  me  related,  which  is  more  pre 
cious  than  the  blood  of  your  father  or  my  father. 
My  soul  goes  out  for  you  ;  and  I  long  that  you  should 
know  how  Christ  feels  for  you.  Oh!  wandering 
sheep,  be  not  ye  lost!  Christ  calls  to  you  by  my 
voice.  He  sends  me  here  to  say  to  some  man  who  is 
on  the  point  of  decision,  but  who  thinks  it  is  of  no 
use  to  try  to  be  good  any  longer ; — drink,  perhaps, 
may  be  taking  you  down  ;  or  your  passions  are  drag 
ging  you  down,  and  you  do  not  know  how  to  resist 
the  insidious  pleasures  which  surround  you  ;  or  your 
companions  are  taking  you  down,  and  nobody,  as 


320 


HOW   TO   BECOME   A    CHRISTIAN. 


you  think,  cares  for  you — nobody  prays  for  you  or 
gives  you  instruction.  Yes,  there  is  one  man  who 
does — I  care  for  you  ;  not  out  of  my  own  nature,  but 
because  the  spirit  of  my  Master  makes  rne  thus  care 
for  your  soul.  lie  sent  me  to  tell  you  that  He — 
glorious  as  he  is — that  He  cares  for  you  ten  thousand 
times  more  than  I  do.  He  loves  you — lie  longs  for 
you ;  and  there  shall  not  be  one  man  who  makes  one 
faint  motion  toward  a  better  life  whom  He  will 
not  stand  ready  to  receive.  He  shall  send  forth  the 
angels,  saying  unto  them,  "  Take  care  of  that  man, 
and  bear  him  up  lest  at  any  time  he  dash  his  foot 
against  a  stone." 

But,  let  me  tell  you,  in  this  matter  you  must 
be  in  earnest;  you  must  be  thoroughly  resolved. 
Prayers  have  this  morning  been  asked  in  your  hear 
ing  for  a  Christian  woman  who,  at  the  peril  of  life, 
has  fled  from  slavery.  Now,  I  want  to  know  if  there 
is  a  man  in  this  congregation  who  desires  to  get  rid 
of  his  sins  as  much  as  this  poor  woman  did  to  get  rid 
of  her  slavery  ?  She  was  willing  to  put  her  life  in 
her  hand,  and,  for  days,  without  food,  without  drink, 
to  seek  for  liberty  as  for  her  very  life. 

Is  there  a  slave  in  this  congregation  ?  A  slave  to 
Satan  or  to  his  own  passions  ?  Is  there  any  who  wants 
to  escape  as  much  as  this  poor  woman  did  ?  Who 
strikes  for  liberty  in  Jesus  Christ?  Who  desires  to 
say  to-day,  not  about  one  habit,  but  of  all  bad  habits, 
"  I  desire  to  reform — I  will  reform  ?"  It  is  easier  to 
]  eform  all  at  once  than  it  is  to  reform  one  thing  at  a 
time.  If  a  man  wishes  to  wash  a  spot,  big  as  a 
penny,  clean  on  a  dirty  hand,  he  will  find  it  much 


HOW   TO   BECOME   A   CHRISTIAN.  321 

easier  to  wash,  the  whole  hand  than  that  one  spot. 
This  gradual  repentance  is  like  a  man  who  wants  to 
be  taken  out  from  a  burning  building,  but  who  says  to 
those  about  him,  "  Now,  don't  take  me  out  too  sud 
denly  ;  take  me  down  first  to  a  room  where  it  is  not 
quite  so  hot  as  it  is  here ;  and  then  to  another  room, 
where  there  is  still  less  heat,  and  so  take  me  out  gra 
dually."  Why,  the  man  would  be  a  cinder  before 
you  got  him  out !  A  man  who  wants  to  reform  should 
reform  perpendicularly !  If  you  mean  to  quit  drink 
ing,  quit  it  at  once,  and  become  a  Christian?  If  you 
want  to  be  an  honest  man,  go  to  God  !  Begin  there. 
It  is  easier  to  reform  any  vice  by  becoming  a  Christ 
ian  at  once,  than  to  attempt  it  from  a  lower  motive. 
Take  upon  you  the  highest  bond  of  truth !  A  man 
who  tries  to  reform  without  the  help  of  God,  is  like  the 
man  who  tries  to  breathe  without  air.  Now,  is  there 
any  man  here  who  seeks  for  reform  ? — there  is  hope 
for  you ;  there  is  prayer  for  you ;  and  better  than 
that,  there  is  God  for  you — there  is  Christ  for  you ! 
I  hope  and  desire  that  in  consequence  of  these 
remarks,  some  man  who  has  been  bound  in  sin  may 
be  converted.  Who  shall  it  be  ?  Shall  it  be  you  ? 
Some  of  you  whose  friends  have  been  laboring  for 

yOU,  BHALL  IT  NOT  BE  YOU? 


14* 


GOD'S  WITNESS  TO  CHRISTIAN  FIDELITY. 

REPORTER'S  PRELIMINARY  STATEMENT. 

[AN  occasion  of  unusual  interest,  and  one  which 
will  be  long  memorable  to  those  who  witnessed  it, 
was  celebrated  last  Sunday  morning  in  Plymouth 
Congregational  Church,  Brooklyn.  The  unusual  re 
ligious  feeling  which  has  been  apparent  in  this  con 
gregation  for  some  months  past,  has  of  late  been  com 
ing  to  harvest,  and  the  fruits  are  now  being  gathered. 
The  prayer-meetings  have  long  been  crowded,  and 
the  weekly  lectures  transferred  from  the  lecture-room 
to  the  main  building,  in  consequence  of  the  thronged 
attendance.  This  church,  during  its  comparatively 
brief  history  of  less  than  eleven  years,  has  experi 
enced  several  revivals  of  great  power  and  long  con 
tinuance  ;  but  never  one  of  greater  extent  or  more 
gratifying  character  than  the  present.  The  first  indi 
cations  of  unusual  seriousness  in  the  congregation 
were  observed  about  the  time  of  the  beginning  of  the 
General  Awakening,  last  fall;  and  the  feeling  has 
since  been  continually  increasing,  without  any  present 
token  of  decline.  The  great  audiences  attending  the 
Sabbath  services  have  given  evidence  of  deep  serious 
ness,  and  the  successive  occasions  of  public  worship 
have  steadily  grown  more  and  more  solemn  and 
impressive.  For  two  months  past,  at  the  close  of  the 
evening  sermons,  the  pastor  has  regularly  invited  the 


GOD'S    WITNESS    TO    CHK1STIAN    FIDELITY.  323 

unconverted  persons  in  tlie  congregation  who  desired 
prayers  in  their  behalf,  to  rise  in  their  seats,  and  thus 
to  make  that  public  commitment  of  themselves  which 
has  so  often  been  found  to  be  the  beginning  act  of 
conversion. 

Since  the  communion  in  March  (when  a  very  large 
accession  was  made  to  the  church)  up  to  last  Sabbath, 
which  was  the  next  following  communion  season,  one 
hundred  and  ninety  persons  presented  themselves  for 
admission ;  of  which  number  one  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  were  to  make  a  public  profession  of  their  faith 
in  Christ,  and  twenty-five  to  be  received  by  letters 
from  other  churches.  How  seldom  is  it  the  privilege 
of  a  single  church  to  receive  into  its  fellowship,  at  a 
regular  communion  occurring  at  an  interval  of  only 
two  months  from  a  previous  one,  which  was  also  sig 
nalized  by  a  large  ingathering,  so  great  a  number  of 
those  who  have  newly  passed  from  death  unto  life, 
and  become — publicly  and  before  the  wrorld — disci 
ples  of  the  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ ! 

An  occasion  of  so  much  interest  was  appropriately 
celebrated  with  joyfulness  and  thanksgiving.  In 
commemoration  of  the  event,  the  pulpit  was  beauti 
fully  decorated  with  flowers — which,  if  there  were 
still  altars  for  sacrifice,  would  be  the  most  beautiful 
and  the  most  touching  offerings  that  could  ever  be 
laid. upon  them;  while  behind  the  desk,  and  facing 
the  company  of  converts,  was  hung  in  cloth  the 
inscription,  "  For  ye  were  as  sheep  gone  astray,  but 
are  now  returned  unto  the  ShephercJ  and  Bishop  of 
your  souls."  The  Rev.  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher  sat  in 
the  pulpit,  a  venerable  witness  of  the  scene,  remind- 


324:  GOD'S    WITNESS    TO    CHRISTIAN    FIDELITY. 

ing  one  of  Summerfield's  picture  of  "  Jacob  leaning 
upon  his  staff."  Five  rows  of  pews,  extending  in 
semi-circular  form  around  the  pulpit,  were  occupied 
exclusively  by  the  candidates.  The  edifice  was 
crowded  to  its  utmost  capacity  in  every  part,  includ 
ing  aisles,  passages,  doorways,  vestibule,  and  pulpit- 
steps,  while  hundreds  of  persons,  notwithstanding  the 
rain  at  the  time  of  the  beginning  of  the  services,  were 
unable  to  obtain  admission  within  seeing  or  hearing 
distances. 

After  the  usual  opening  invocation  and  singing,  the 
pastor  read  the  long  list  of  names  of  persons  pro 
pounded  for  membership ;  which  brought  tears  to 
many  eyes  in  the  congregation,  as  relatives  and 
friends  were  found  to  be  upon  it,  including  in  some 
instances  almost  entire  families,  with  many  parents 
and  children,  brothers  and  sisters,  born  at  the  same 
time  into  the  kingdom  of  God.  It  was  almost  like 
the  reading  of  a  page  out  of  the  "  Lamb's  book  of 
life." 

Two  verses  of  Doddridge's  hymn  were  then  sung, 
beginning — 

"  0  happy  day,  that  fixed  my  choice." 

The  union  of  three  thousand  voices  in  a  hymn  of 
praise,  to  two  hundred  of  whom,  gathered  around  the 
pulpit,  it  was  a  "  new  song  in  their  mouth,"  was  so 
solemn  and  inspiring,  that  there  could  have  been  but 
few  in  the  house  not  affected  by  it. 

The  usual  brief  ceremonial  of  admission  was  then 
performed,  consisting  in  the  reading  of  the  "  articles 
of  faith,"  and  the  "  covenant  with  the  church,"  to 


325 


the  converts  standing,  and  their  bowing  assent — in 
the  baptism  of  such  as  had  never  before  received  the 
rite,  of  whom  there  were  thirty  females  and  twelve 
males — in  the  reading  of  the  covenant  to  those 
received  by  letter — and  in  the  welcome  act  of  fellow 
ship  by  the  church,  expressed  by  the  members  rising 
in  their  seats  in  token  of  admitting  their  new  brethren 
into  their  number. 

It  should  be  mentioned  that  on  Thursday  evening 
previous  to  the  communion,  twenty-three  of  the  can 
didates  were  baptized,  at  their  own  request,  by 
immersion.  The  ceremony  was  performed  by  Mr. 
Beecher,  in  presence  of  a  crowded  assembly,  in  the 
Baptist  church  in  Pierrepont  street. 

The  opening  exercises  were  concluded  with  singing 
the  three  remaining  verses  of  the  same  hymn,  which, 
thus  divided,  is  admirably  adapted  to  such  an  occa 
sion — beginning  with  the  third  verse, 

•  •  'Tis  done,  the  greatest  transaction's  done } 
I  am  the  Lord's  and  He  is  mine." 

A  sermon  wras  then  preached,  which,  owing  to  the 
exercises  that  had  already  preceded,  and  to  the  con> 
munion  which  was  to  follow  it,  wras  unusually  brief, 
and  of  which — from  both  the  general  interest  of  the 
occasion,  and  of  the  discourse  itself — we  give  an 
unabridged  and  complete  report  as  follows  :] 

"Till we  all  come  in  the  unity  of  the  faith,  and  of  the  knowledge 
of  the  Son  of  God,  unto  a  perfect  man,  unto  the  measure  of  the  sta 
ture  of  the  fullness  of  Christ ;  that  we  henceforth  be  no  more  chil 
dren,  tossed  to  and  fro,  and  carried  about  with  every  wind  of  doc 
trine,  by  the  sleight  of  men,  and  cunning  craftiness,  whereby  they 
lie  in  wait  to  deceive  ;  but  speaking  the  truth  in  love,  may  grow  up 


326        GOD'S  WITNESS  TO  CHRISTIAN  FIDELITY. 

unto  him  in  all  things,  which  is  the  head,  even  Christ ;  from  whom  the 
whole  body  fitly  joined  together  and  compacted  by  that  which  every 
joint  supplieth,  according  to  the  effectual  working  in  the  measure  of 
every  part,  maketh  increase  of  the  body  unto  the  edifying  of  itself  in 
love."— EPH.  iv.  13-16. 

This  is  addressed  to  those  who  were  but  just  enter 
ing  upon  a  course  of  Christian  discipleship ;  and  it  is 
peculiarly  appropriate  to  an  occasion  Hke  this.  This 
morning  God  hath  caused  the  gates  of  this  temple  to 
be  thrown  open,  to  receive  as  many  as  would  consti 
tute  a  new  and  large  church !  Such  a  day  as  this  has 
never  before  dawned  upon  this  Christian  brother 
hood. 

This  church  is  but  eleven  years  old.  It  has  been 
blessed  with  five  seasons  of  peculiar  religious  growth. 
They  have  not  been  at  the  expense  of  intermediate 
seasons.  Much  has  lately  been  said  of  revivals ;  and 
many  have  derided  them  as  rare  and  occasional 
freshets  of  feeling,  in  churches  that  ordinarily  have 
none.  That  this  is  sometimes  the  fact  is  indisputa 
ble.  But  it  need  not  be.  A  revival  of  religion  is 
not  an  abnormal  state.  It  is  based  upon  natural 
laws.  Like  all  other  true  states,  it  will  be  sound  and 
beneficial,  or  imperfect  and  mischievous,  according 
to  the  knowledge  and  skill  with  which  men  employ 
the  great  and  stated  agencies  of  Truth. 

Five  revivals  have  been  experienced  in  eleven 
years  in  this  church.  "Not  only  has  this  not  been  the 
case  because  the  intermediate  periods  were  unspiri- 
tual  and  declining ;  but  there  has  been  a  continual 
growth  in  the  spirituality  of  the  church,  and  each 
revival  has  lifted  the  church  higher.  And  when  the 


special  social  religious  element  has  subsided,  it  has 
not  left  the  church  cold,  hard,  insensitive,  and  fruit 
less.  For,  if  you  except  the  communion  season  which 
follows  the  summer  pastoral  vacation  (and  at  which 
we  do  not  aim  to  receive  members)  there  Jias  been 
scarcely  a  communion  season  in  this  church  for  years, 
at  which  persons  have  not  been  received  from  the 
world.  And  there  have  been  awakenings  and  con 
versions  more  or  less  frequent  during  every  year,  and 
during  every  month,  from  year  to  year.  Eleven 
years  ago  this  month,  this  church  was  formed  with 
twenty-rive  members.  To-day  it  stands  up  to  praise 
God  with  the  grateful  hearts  of  1,377;  and  of  this 
great  company,  673  have  been  received  from  the 
world,  and  upon  good  evidence  of  conversion. 

You  must  not  uncharitably  regard  this  as  boasting. 
I  have  no  time  for  that;  I  have  a  higher  end  in 
view. 

I  wish  it  to  be  remembered  that  this  church  has 
had  its  whole  life  and  development  during  a  very 
critical  period  of  American  history.  The  Gospel  of 
Christ,  in  every  age,  has  a  new  work  to  perform,  a 
new  growth  to  develop,  new  applications  to  the  ever- 
changing  phases  of  society  to  be  made.  I  need  not 
tell  you  through  what  a  memorable  and  eventful 
series  of  changes  God  has  brought  this  nation. 

In  preaching  the  Gospel  to  you,  I  have  taken  it  for 
granted  that  my  duty  was  to  preach  a  living  Gospel, 
to  living  men,  about  living  questions.  I  have  not 
confined  my  attention  to  one  subject.  I  have 
preached  Christ  as  the  fountain-head  of  all  spiritual 
life,  and  the  perfect  exemplar.  I  have  taught  you 


328 


that  a  deep,  inward  spiritual  life,  begun  by  God's 
Spirit,  and  daily  nourished  by  God's  personal  pre 
sence,  is  the  foundation  of  all  true  Christian  morals.  I 
have  taught  you  that  love  to  God  and  to  man  is  the 
characteristic  element  of  all  true  Christian  reforma 
tory  labor.  And  you  will  bear  me  witness  that  I 
have  anxiously,  and  ten  times,  yes,  a  hundred  times 
more  than  anything  else,  taught,  labored,  and  be 
sought  that  you  prepare  yourselves  for  all  external 
work  by  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  by  humility,  by  zeal 
tempered  with  discretion,  by  fervent  sympathy  with 
each  other  and  with  the  whole  brotherhood  of  man 
kind.  And  I  have  incessantly  stimulated  you  to 
work  in 'an  atmosphere  of  love. 

Thus  prepared,  I  have  sought  to  inspire  you  with 
higher  ideals  of  life  in  every  one  of  its  elements; 
with  a  higher  notion  of  personal  character ;  with  a 
nobler  sense  of  true  manhood  ;  with  a  purer  and 
deeper  way  of  personal  living;  with  a  richer  and 
higher  idea  of  the  family  state;  with  more  noble 
Jiabits  of  secular  life.  I  have  searched  the  family,  the 
store,  the  shop,  the  office,  the  street,  the  ship,  the 
farm,  with  the  lighted  candle  of  the  Gospel,  and 
sought  to  develop  in  your  mind  the  idea  of  a  sym 
metrical  Christian  character,  both  contemplative  and 
executive,  both  spiritual  and  philanthropic,  both 
domestic  and  public.  I  have  not  forgotten  things 
personal  in  things  domestic,  nor  things  secular  in 
domestic  truths,  nor  your  public  duties  by  any  over 
scrupulous  ecclesiastic  and  church  relationship.  And 
in  the  fulfillment  of  this  work  you  know  very  wTell 
that  I  have  neither  neglected  public  questions  nor 


GOD'S    WITNESS    TO    CHRIS  MAX    FIDELITY.  329 

yet  intruded  them  so  often  as  to  give  them  dispropor 
tionate  importance.  I,  have  called  you  to  believe 
the  deep  and  fundamental  truth  of  Christ's  atone 
ment,  on  the  human  side  of  it,  namely,  that  men  are 
unspeakably  precious  and  valuable  beyond  all  esti 
mation  before  God !  I  have  said  that  the  meanest 
and  lowest  creature  on  the  globe  is  of  transcendent 
dignity,  and  has  rights  sacred  as  the  throne  of  God. 
For,  what  shall  measure  the  worth  of  a  creature  for 
whose  salvation  Christ  would  die?  One  drop  of 
Christ's  blood  is  worth  a  globe,  though  it  were  one 
orbicular  diamond.  Soub  are  the  jewels  of  God,  not 
metals  or  stones. 

I  have  taken  hearty  and  earnest  part  in  the  strug 
gles  of  our  day  for  the  great  Christian  Doctrines  of 
Human  Liberty,  and  I  have  led  no  unwilling  church 
into  the  conflict.  In  this  matter  (pardon  me  if  I 
speak  of  myself)  I  have  determined  to  have  no 
interests,  no  reputation,  and  no  position  or  influence, 
aside  from  these  great  truths.  I  have  committed  my 
soul  to  God's  keeping,  and  have  neither  asked  nor 
cared  what  men  might  think,  or  say,  or  do.  Too 
thankful  to  live  in  such  a  day,  and  to  work  in  such  a 
field,  I  have  only  feared  that  my  sight  might  grow  dull, 
my  heart  grow  feeble,  and  my  hand  become  weak  in 
this  work  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  Christ !  As  Christ 
has  embraced  the  human  soul  in  his  own,  so  hath  he 
taught  me  to  call  all  men  my  brethren.  And  I  have 
preached,  lectured,  written,  and  gone  forth  unhesi 
tatingly  and  before  the  whole  people,  to  bear  witness 
to  the  great  Gospel  of  Christ  in  the  one  preeminent 
and  transcendent  application  of  it  to  the  great  pulsat 
ing,  living  interest  of  this  age  and  nation. 


330        GOD'S  WITNESS  TO  CHRISTIAN  FIDELITY. 

!N"ow,  why  have  I  said  all  this  ?      For  two  reasons. 

First,  Because  God  has  raised  up  this  church  as 
seal  and  testimony.  It  stands  before  the  nation  as  a 
church  consecrated  to  Christ,  not  only  in  a  genera] 
way,  but  as  a  church  that  bears  an  unfaltering  wit 
ness  to  Christian  Reform.  It  stands  before  the  world 
for  Temperance ;  for  Liberty  and  against  Slavery ; 
for  Humanity  and  against  all  oppression  in  trade,  in 
commerce,  or  in  civil  relations.  And  what  has  been 
God's  testimony? 

Has  this  been  a  church  split  and  divided  by  intes 
tine  quarrels  ?  For  eleven  years  your  church  meet 
ings  have  been  open  to  the  freest  speech.  And  I  call 
you  to  witness  that  there  has  never  been  a  difficulty 
so  large  as  a  man's  hand,  nay,  so  large  as  a  finger,  in 
this  society  or  church !  We  have  gone  through  all 
discussions  of  the  most  perilous  and  exciting  ques 
tions,  and  all  men  have  had  unrestrained  liberty,  and 
yet  love  has  not  been  quenched.  And  we  stand  this 
day  a  living  brotherhood.  You  love  me.  I  love 
you,  most  heartily.  And  you  love  each  other,  and 
dwell  in  more  than  peace — yea,  in  great  joy  and 
gladness  together.  And  it  is  a  thing  that  has  become 
noticeable,  and  noticed,  that  there  is  in  this  congre 
gation  a  spirit  of  general  and  undissembled  love. 
This  is  God's  blessing  and  God's  witness  to  the  right 
eousness  of  your  cause ! 

Moreover,  while  you  have  been  faithful,  in  some 
degree,  to  Christ's  work  among  the  poor,  see  how  he 
has  set  the  seal  to  it  by  the  repeated  revivals  sent 
among  and  upon  you !  To  those  who  ignorantly 
denounce  you  for  not  preaching  the  Gospel,  we 


331 

answer,  within  eleven  years  there  have  been  five  pre 
cious  revivals  of  religion  here,  and  many  hundreds 
of  conversions. 

Is  this  the  history  of  a  church  without  a  Gospel  ? 
I  declare  rny  solemn  conviction,  that  God  has  spirit 
ually  blessed  you  because  it  was  the  very  Gospel 
which  we  preached.  Not  a  descant  to  the  rich,  not 
an  essay  to  the  refined,  not  a  favoring  of  the  prospe 
rous,  but  a  Gospel  of  pity,  love,  and  salvation,  tem 
poral  and  eternal,  to  every  tribe,  race,  and  class  of  men 

And  I  am  willing  to  go  before  the  impartial  tribu 
nal  of  coming  times,  and  declare  that  by  this  fidelity 
to  liberty,  to  good  morals,  to  humanity,  to  the  indis 
pensable  and  integral  elements  ,  of  true  spiritual 
religion,  we  have  been  prospered. 

The  other  reason  that  led  me  to  this  history,  was, 
that  I  might  bear  witness,,  not  alone  to  the  reality, 
but  to  the  beneficence  of  Eevivals  of  Eeligion. 

They  are  not  the  mere  alternative  heats  which 
follow  worldly  chills.  Revivals  are  founded  upon 
natural  laws,  just  as  are  all  other  instrumental  reli 
gious  elements.  They  may  be  wisely  dealt  with. 
They  may  be  ignorantly  dealt  with.  But  they  do 
not  exist  because  the  church,  having  been  low,  seeks 
to  equilibrate  itself  by  being  unduly  excited.  They 
belong  to  the  social  and  religious  nature  of  men, 
gathered  together  in  churches  or  communities. 

As  it  respects  this  church,  I  bear  witness,  that  at 
each  period  this  church  has  risen,  in  consequence  of 
such  visitations,  to  a  higher  level  of  Christian  life, 
and  kept  it !  The  church  by  each  season  has  risen 
to  a  higher  conception  of  Christian  life,  to  higher  and 


332        GOD'S  WITNESS  TO  CHRISTIAN  FIDELITY. 

purer  views  of  Christ,  to  clearer  conceptions  of  duty 
and  usefulness,  to  greater  desire  for  doing  good,  and 
expertness  in  carrying  forth  that  desire. 

This  church  has  been  a  Christian  church,  believing 
in  the  great  cardinal  doctrines  held  by  evangelical 
Christians  in  common ;  and  because  it  was  a  Christ 
ian  church  it  has  been  a  temperance  body,  a  church 
full  of  zeal  for  liberty,  and  incessantly  laborious  in 
all  the  great  humanities  of  our  age.     And  yet,  it  has 
been  expectant  of  revivals,  and  the  grateful  recipient 
of  them.     For,  as  God  gives  a  great  seed-time,  and  a 
great  and  general  harvest  to  every  year,  and  yet  fills 
up  the  months  also,  with  incidental  and  perpetual  blos 
soming  and  ripening  of  some  sweet  thing ;  so  he  gives 
to  every  true  and  intelligent  church  constant  budding, 
constant  blossoming.      But,,  beside  that,  is  grander 
profusion — greater  harvests,  in  which  the  whole  year 
opens  its  bosom  and  exhibits  its  vast  richness !    There 
may  be  a  harvest  of  cockles  and  chess,  but  that  does 
not  argue  against  true  wheat  or  corn  !     There  may  be 
an  autumn  for  the  crab-apple  and  the  bitter  sloe,  but 
that  does  not  take  from  the  glory  of  the  orchard,  nor 
from  the  exquisite  flavor  of  its  superabundant  fruits. 
A  true  course   of  fidelity   thus  is  seen   to   stand 
between  the  two  extremes  of  an  empty  Christianity 
and  a  scoffing  Infidelity.     It  rejects  the  dead  sepul 
chre,  amid  which  inhuman  Christians  stand  praising 
the  dust  and  bones  of  those  men  of  the  past  whom 
their  pharisaic  fathers  slew.     And  it  utterly  refuses 
to  go  down  to  the  hard  and  stony  road  of  Naturalism, 
where  the  strong  men  but  just  subsist,  and  where, 
when  the  weak  ask  for  bread,  they  must  give  them 


GOD'S    WITNESS    TO    CHRISTIAN    FIDELITY.  333 

stones,  and  for  eggs,  scorpion  doubts.  They  have 
nothing  better  to  give  ! 

And  now  for  the  future !  To  what  have  these  new 
comers  been  called  ?  Are  they  to-day  received  into 
your  bosom,  that  they  may,  henceforth,  subside  and 
be  sheltered  from  labor,  from  self-denial,  from 
achievement,  yea,  if  need  be,  from  battle  unto 
death ! 

Nay,  verily  !  you  have  merely  begun.  Your  jour 
ney  is  yet  to  be  performed.  You  have  taken  your 
staff ;  but  the  travelling  is  all  before  you.  You  have 
entered  school ;  you  are  scholars.  You  have  much 
to  learn,  and  everything  to  practise  ;  you  are  just 
beginning.  Your  experience  thus  far  is  but  leaven, 
that  is  to  leaven  the  whole  meal. 

The  centre  of  all  your  aims  is  to  be,  according  to 
the  Scripture  which  I  have  read — the  construction  of 
your  own  character.  You  are  to  build  hereafter 
toward  the  ideal  of  perfect  manhood.  "  Till  we  all 
come  in  the  unity  of  the  faith  and  of  the  knowledge 
of  the  Son  of  God,  unto  a  perfect  man  ;  unto  the 
measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fullness  of  Christ." 
Hereafter,  your  aim  is  to  be  the  reconstruction  of 
your  inward  and  your  outward  life,  so  that  you  shall 
attain  to  a  full  manhood — to  the  pattern  and  ideal 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

Joys  are  not,  therefore,  what  you  are  seeking — • 
though  joys  will  be  yours  ;  nor  sorrows — though  you 
will  have  them.  It  is  not  eminent  vision  that  you 
seek.  It  is  not  mere  zeal,  not  mere  self-denial,  not 
mere  cross-bearing.  These  and  such  other  graces  aa 
are  either  instruments  or  the  sequences  of  your  true 


334:        GOD'S  WITNESS  TO  CIIIUSTLYX  FIDELITY. 

Christian  life — you  will  have.  But  your  aim  is  to 
be,  to  build  up  a  Christian  manhood — a  spiritually 
manly  character.  When  men  build,  it  is  not  bricks 
that  they  aim  at,  nor  stone,  nor  timber,  nor  lime,  nor 
paint,  though  they  use  them  all ;  they  aim  at  a  house. 
"  Now,  we  are  no  more  strangers  and  foreigners,  but 
fellow-citizens  with  the  saints,  and  of  the  household 
of  God  ;  and  are  built  up  upon  the  foundation  of  the 
apostles  and  prophets,  Jesus  Christ  himself  being  the 
chief  corner-stone  ;  in  whom  all  the  building  fitly 
framed  together  groweth  unto  a  holy  temple  in  the 
Lord  ;  in  whom  ye  also  are  build ed  together  for  a 
habitation  of  God  through  the  Spirit."  Our  text 
gives  the  same  thought,  only  under  a  different  figure 
— of  the  body.  Men  do  not  seek  to  develop  them 
selves  in  the  hand  alone,  nor  in  the  foot,  nor  in  any 
one  member.  They  seek  the  life  of  the  whole  body. 
And  so  you  are  called,  not  to  be  happy,  not  to  be 
peaceful ;  you  are  called,  not  to  suffering,  not  to  self- 
denial,  not  to  cross-bearing.  Though  all  these  things 
come  upon  you,  they  are  merely  instruments  with 
which  you  are  to  build  up  a  Christian  manhood,  in 
all  its  symmetry  and  perfection. 

That  manhood,  although  it  is  to  be  based  upon 
your  natural  faculties,  is  a  great  deal  more  than  the 
mere  unfolding  of  these  faculties.  There  is  to  be 
unfolding,  and  then  a  training  to  a  model — which  is 
Christ.  And  this  does  not  mean  a  training  to  any 
mystic  and  impossible  identity  with  God,  in  the 
greatness  of  His  peculiar  spiritual  being;  but  a  train 
ing  to  those  elements  of  feeling  which  Christ  mani 
fested — to  those  aims  which  he  accepted — to  those 


335 


practical  elements  of  life  which  lie  exhibited.  Christ 
is  your  model  and  teacher.  You  are  not,  therefore, 
to  go  to  the  World  to  ask  what  is  honest,  or  what  is 
pure,  or  what  is  true ;  you  are  to  go  to  Christ  and 
ask  him,  and,  with  that  knowledge,  to  go  back  and 
live  by  it — let  the  world  and  its  customs  be  what 
they  may.  You  are  not  to  go  to  your  own  circle,  nor 
to  any  mere  church  or  teacher  ;  you  are  to  go  to  the 
Lord  and  Saviour.  There  is  his  life;  there  is  his 
conduct ;  there  are  his  words.  There  you  are  to 
resort.  If  you  need  help  to  interpret  what  they 
mean,  ask  help  of  those  that  are  wise  in  these  things  ; 
yet  your  model  is  not  to  be  minister,  nor  church,  nor 
family,  nor  community — but  Christ ! 

In  this  work,  you  are  to  remember  that  piety  is  a 
practical  thing.  "  That  ye  henceforth  be  no  more 
children,  tossed  to  and  fro,  and  carried  about  with 
every  wind  of  doctrine,  by  the  will  of  men  and  cun 
ning  craftiness,  whereby  they  lie  in  wait  to  deceive." 
Piety  is  not  an  explanation  of  all  possible  religious 
truths.  It  is  not  casuistry,  nor  ethical  discussion.  It 
is  the  rearing  up  of  your  daily  life  upon  the  pattern 
of  Christ  Jesus.  To  that  you  are  called.  Christians, 
like  other  men,  may  investigate  ;  they  may  reason  ; 
they  may  study ;  they  may  construct  philosophies ; 
but  this  is  no  necessary  part  of  their  Christian  life. 
That  to  which  they  are  called  is  the  finding  out  of 
truth  for  the  sake  of  better  living — not  the  finding 
out  of  truth  for  the  sake  of  knowing  how  one  fits 
into  another.  You  are  called  into  the  church  in  an 
age  of  speculation.  Everything  is  up  for  investiga 
tion.  No  book,  no  custom,  no  system,  no- institution 


336        GOD'S  WITNESS  TO  CHRISTIAN  FIDELITY. 

— though  a  thousand  years  have  made  it  venerable, 
is  or  can  be  exempt  from  search  and  test.  I  do  not 
wish  to  warn  you  against  discussion,  nor  against 
thinking,  nor  against  progress.  But  that  which  is  to 
make  you  Christian  men  is  not  involved  in  research, 
nor  in  philosophy.  It  lies  within  the  reach  of  the 
simplest  soul — within  reach  of  the  most  ignorant.  It 
is  written  over  and  over  again,  almost  in  every  pos 
sible  form.  "The  righteousness  which  is  of  faith 
ppeaketh  in  this  wise,  Say  not  in  thine  heart,  who 
shall  ascend  into  heaven?  that  is,  to  bring  Christ 
down  from  above  ;  or  who  shall  descend  into  the 
deep  ?  that  is,  to  bring  up  Christ  again  from  the  dead. 
But  what  saith  it  ?  The  word  is  nigh  thee,  even  in 
thy  mouth,  and  in  thy  heart,  that  is,  the  word  of  faith 
which  we  preach."  Your  Christian  character  does 
not  stand  in  your  being  able  to  solve  all  curious, 
knotty  questions.  It  stands  in  your  being  able  to  solve 
the  mischief  of  pride  in  your  heart — in  controlling 
your  selfishness — in  making  sweet  that  which  is  bit 
ter — in  lifting  up  that  which  is  low — in  exalting  that 
which  is  high  still  higher — in  making  your  whole  life 
redolent  of  Christian  love.  You  are  called  to  this. 
Let  other  men  investigate  doctrines  and  philosophies, 
and  you  yourselves  may,  but  there  is  something, 
without  these,  that  stands  near  enough  to  every  one 
of  you :  the  construction  of  your  own  private  personal 
character  and  conduct  upon  the  model  of  Christ. 
There  be  many  men  who  will  preach  another  Gospel 
to  you  ;  but  the  Gospel  for  you  is — Christ  in  you  the 
hope  of  glory.  There  are  many  men  who  will  trouble 
you  with  the  dust  of  the  Bible,  its  foundation  knocked 


33T 

from  under  it,  and  the  superstructure  all  taken  down ; 
but  what  you  need  is  not  curious  speculation,  but  rich 
and  pure  living — deep-hearted  piety,  to  build  you  up 
higher  and  higher  in  a  true  manhood ;  to  prepare 
you  for  sorrow  and  trouble ;  to  prepare  you  for 
bereavements  and  afflictions  ;  to  prepare  you  for  the 
grand  passage  of  death;  to  prepare  you  to  stand 
immortal  in  the  kingdom  of  God  and  of  our  Lord  and 
Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  While,  if  you  are  perplexed 
and  puzzled  with  various  questions,  you  may  investi 
gate  freely,  see  to  it  that  no  troubles  in  respect  to 
external  circumstances  move  you  from  that  which  is 
the  marrow  of  the  truth — Christ  your  model,  and 
a  character  shaped  and  fashioned  according  to  his 
example. 

The  element  in  which  everything  grows  and  ripens 
in  this  outward  world  is  that  conjoined  element 
which  the  sun  gives — light  and  heat.  To-day  is 
Nature's  great  communion  day !  Ten  million  times 
ten  million  new-born  leaves  are  holding  up  their  ten 
der  hands  to  greet  the  sun.  "What  is  that  which 
evokes  them  all?  What  is  that  in  which  they  all 
live,  and  are  to  live  all  summer  long?  What  is  that 
which  is  to  ripen  them  till  they  all  glow  like  gold  in 
autumn?  It  is  the  warmth  and  light  of  the  sun 
— the  great  atmosphere  with  which  God  bathes  all 
nature  !  Now  we  are  to  live  in  one  great  atmosphere 
which  is  to  be  about  us — the  atmosphere  of  Christian 
love.  When  I  speak  of  love,  I  do  not  mean  the  drops 
that  trickle  down  when  we  strike  the  rocky  heart  with 
the  prophet's  warid,  gushing  for  the  day  and  then 
dried  up  ;  but  love  springing  up  and  filling  the  whole 

15 


338        GOD'S  WITNESS  TO  CHRISTIAN  FIDELITY. 

heart,  always,  to  overflowing.  I  mean,  first,  thou  shalt 
iove  the  Lord  thy  God,  and  then,  out  of  that  same 
fountain,  thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself. 
See  how  curiously  this  is  here  traced — like  curious 
figures  worked  in  gold  :  "  That  henceforth  ye  be  no 
more  children,  tossed  to  and  fro,  and  carried  about 
with  every  wind  of  doctrine  by  sleight  of  men  and 
cunning  craftiness  whereby  they  lie  in  wait  to  de 
ceive  ;  but,  speaking  the  truth  in  love,  may  grow  up 
unto  him  in  all  things,  which  is  the  head,  even 

Christ," 

One  thing  more.  "What  a  consummation  is  this 
to-Say!  We  stand  upon  the  dividing-point,  and 
reach  forth  into  the  past  and  the  future  !  Who  were 
your  fathers  and  mothers?  Where  the  village  in 
which  your  infancy  nestled?  What  has  been  the 
course  and  history  of  your  life  ?  Look  back  from  the 
point  and  privilege  of  to-day !  How  many  prayers 
are  now  answered  on  your  appearing  here  to-day  ! 
How  many  tears,  shed  like  dew  in  the  silence  of  the 
night,  are  now  made  radiant,  like  dews  when  the 
morning  sun  rises  upon  them  !  Mothers,  that  have 
prayed  for  you,  and  died  praying,  and  have  gone 
home  to  glory,  behold  you  from  heaven  to-day !  For 
though  we  may  not  know  what  is  going  on  in  heaven, 
heaven  knows  what  is  going  on  upon  earth.  And 
they  that  are  redeemed  behold  you,  and  bless  God 
with  double  joy  for  your  joy  to-day.  What  tempta 
tions  have  you  escaped  and  left  behind  you  forever 
and  forever  !  What  evils  have  you  turned  yourselves 
from !  What  a  life  have  you  abandoned,  and  what 
a  glorious  life  have  you  entered  upon ! 


339 

Now  turn  and  look  the  other  way.  What  is  to  be 
your  history  ?  Some  of  you  are  to  be  poor  ;  but  you 
have  that  which  is  worth  more  than  riches.  S5me 
of  you  are  to  be  obscure ;  nay,  he  on  whose  head 
Christ  hath  put  his  hand,  can  never  be  other  than 
illustrious !  Some  of  you  are  to  have  a  hard  and 
burdensome  way  in  life  ;  but  no  burden  is  comparable 
to  the  cross,  and  he  who  has  learned  to  carry  the  cross 
of  Christ,  can  carry  the  globe  itself  after  that !  Some 
of  you  perhaps  are  to  go  forth  upon  the  ocean,  and  to 
die,  and  be  buried  in  its  waves.  Some  of  you  are 
to  go  among  strangers,  to  fall  down  in  the  forest 
where  no  man  hath  been,  and  where  there  wilT  be 
none  to  wipe  the  death  moisture  from  your  fore 
head.  But  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  hath  said,  "  I  will 
never  leave  you  nor  forsake  you."  Die  where  he 
please,  die  when  he  please,  he  dies  unto  life  who  dies 
with  Christ  ministering  to  him. 

And  now,  my  dear  Christian  brethren,  I  cannot  tell 
you  with  what  joy  I  receive  you,  one  by  one. 
Although  I  have  been  so  busy  that  I  could  not  sit 
down  to  take  the  luxury  of  joy  with  each  one  of  you, 
one  after  another — for  you  came  too  fast  for  that— 
yet  I  propose  to  myself  a  better  time  with  you  in 
heaven  than  ever  I  shall  have  upon  earth.  But  to- 
'  day  let  me  pause  in  my  work ;  let  me  sit  down  with 
you  to-day  in  the  bower  of  Christ's  love ;  and  let  me 
be  happy,  and  be  ye  happy,  as  you  and  I  shall  taste 
the  bread  and  the  wine  for  the  first  time  in  your  lives, 
to-day.  INo  such  bread  has  ever  grown  as  that  which 
you  shall  taste  to-day  !  No  grape  was  ever  crushed 
of  such  precious  life-blcod  as  that  with  which  to-day 


340        GOD'S  WITNESS  TO  CHRISTIAN  FIDELITY. 

we  shall  symbolize  the  blood  of  Christ  Jesus,  shed  for 
the  remission  of  your  sins !  O  children  of  Christ, 
new-born!  O  disciples  of  Christ,  new-learned!  O 
heirs  of  glory,  expectant  of  heaven  ! — I  bid  you  GOD 
SPEED  !  And  if  ever  in  after  times  you  are  carried 
into  temptations,  if  ever  you  are  waylaid  by  secret 
enemies  in  your  own  heart,  if  ever  you  are  driven 
hither  and  thither  from  your  steadfastness — wherever 
you  may  be  in  the  dark  hour — I  bid  you  remember 
this  bright  and  radiant  morning,  and  this  joyful  con 
secration  which  you  this  day  have  made ;  and  if  in 
that  hour  of  darkness  there  is  nothing  in  the  present 
to  sustain  you,  draw  from  the  magazine  of  the  past, 
and  let  memory  nerve  you  to  stand  steadfast  and 
faithful  unto  the  end  !  And  when  we  shall  have  passed 
what  most  men  call  the  river,  but  what  has  become 
by  faith  the  rill  of  death — scarcely  wetting  the  palms 
of  our  feet,  while  we  walk  across  singing  triumphs  all 
the  way  over ; — if  you  go  before  I  do,  greet  me  ;  if  I 
go  before,  I  shall  look  back  for  you,  and  reach  out 
joyful  hands  from  among  that  multitude  that  shall 
stand  to  greet  you  when  you  come  to  your  Father's 
kingdom.  By  and  by  we  shall  be  with  the  ransomed 
of  the  Lord,  and  there,  crowned  with  eternal  joy,  we 
shall  lift  up  our  voices  forever  and  ever  in  praise  of 
him  who  hath  this  day  loved  us,  and  given  himself 
for  us.  Amen !  Amen ! 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  CHRISTIANITY.* 

TUB  ability  of  the  missionary  society  to  do 
abroad,  depends  very  much  on  the  opinion  enter 
tained  of  it  at  home.  Whenever  a  difficulty  occurs 
there,  it  must  be  removed.  And  there  is  such  a 
difficulty  now.  There  are  some  individuals  whose 
faith  is  so  strong  that  they  always  give  them 
selves  up  to  their  feelings  without  reasoning.  There 
are  others  who  follow  their  heads  first,  and  only 
give  liberty  to  their  hearts  afterward.  First,  it  vas 
necessary  with  them  that  the  head  should  see  clearly 
and  reasonably  what  was  to  be  done,  before  their 
hearts  were  permitted  to  get  up  much  steam.  These 
are,  after  all,  the  most  useful  men  in  this  cause,  as 
in  any  other.  E"ow,  is  this  work  of  evangelizing  the 
world  a  divine  work?  If  it  is  divine,  how  shall  we 
explain  the  great  hiatus  in  its  progress?  Eighteen 
hundred  years  ago  it  commenced,  and  made  glorious 
strides  toward  completion ;  but  then  it  seemed,  as  if 
tht)  great  command  had  been  suspended  for  ages,  the 
command  given  by  Christ  before  his  ascension,  "  Go 
ye  into  all  the  world  and  preach  the  Gospel  to  every 
creature."  Why  had  not  the  work  gone  on  ?  When 
the  apostles,  with  the  fiery  tongues  of  Pentecost  yet 

*  An  Address  delivered  at  the  Anniversary  of  the  A.  B.  C.  F.  M. 
May,  1847. 


342  PROGRESS   OF   CHRISTIANITY. 

burning  on  their  heads,  went  forth,  the  nations  fell 
before  them  like  withered  grass  before  the  autumnal 
fires.  But  our  progress  is  like  that  of  snails.  Theirs, 
like  that  of  lions.  Hath  God  forgotten?  His  arm 
then  stretched  forth  with  might,  has  it  grown  weary  ? 
Or  was  the  success  of  the  apostles'  preaching  and 
labors  merely  the  result  of  human  enthusiasm,  which 
has  its  ebbing  and  flowing,  its  action  and  reaction,  its 
periodic  times  ?  Has  it  died  away  through  so  many 
centuries,  and  have  we  at  last  raised  it  to  a  merely 
temporary  resurrection?  Are  there  any  marks  of 
divinity  about  the  great  scheme  ? 

"When  the  Gospel  was  first  preached,  the  im 
mensity  of  its  work  can  scarcely  be  conceived  by  us 
at  the  present  day.  The  apostles  had  not  only  to  con 
vert  men,  individual  men,  but  to  convert  the  world. 
The  Gospel  was  to  infuse  its  leaven  into  all  that  men 
had  done  in  the  world,"  into  all  their  laws,  their  man 
ners  and  customs,  their  social  and  domestic  rela 
tions,  their  political  institutions,  and  the  whole  frame 
work  of  society.  These,  too,  were  all  to  be  divinely 
baptized,  just  as  much  as  the  men  themselves.  We 
must  not  suffer  ourselves  to  be  deceived  by  low  con 
ceptions  of  the  work  which  had  to  be  done.  Remem 
ber  the  words  of  Christ  himself.  The  kingdom  of 

O 

heaven  was  to  be  like  leaven  which  a  woman  took 
and  hid — hid  in  three  measures  of  meal.  Now,  when 
you  take  leaven,  and  put  it  into  the  meal,  you  do  not 
see  anything  like  a  spontaneous  fermentation.  It  is 
hidden — you  cannot  see  it,  nor  can  you  see  its  opera 
tion  until  the  fermentation  is  complete.  In  like 
manner  Christ  came.  He  put  the  leaven  into  three 


PROGRESS   OF  CHRISTIANITY.  343 

centuries,  and  there  it  was  hid,  working  and  work 
ing  under  the  surface,  invisible  to  the  eye,  until  by 
and  by  there  was  a  little  breaking  forth  here,  and  a 
little  there,  and  then,  when  the  results  began  to  ap 
pear,  men,  having  lost  the  connection  between  cause 
and  effect,  said,  "Whence  is  this?"     They  had  lost 
sight  of  the  leaven,  it  was  placed  there  so  long  ago. 
We  must  remember  that  this  meal  was  placed  in  a 
pretty  large  dish.     It  was  the  whole  world.     When 
Christ  came,  the  world  was  four  thousand  years  old, 
and  its  progress  from  the  first  had  been  steadily  up 
ward  in  all  intellectual  and  manual  branches ;  but  this 
growth  had  taken  place  under  the  influence  of  de 
praved  hearts — of  selfishness,  of  pride  and  of  cruelty. 
The  Gospel  was  now  to  undo  and  overlay  all  that  bad 
hearts  and  bad  understandings  had  been  doing  in  the 
world  for  these  four   thousand  years.      It  had  not 
only  to  convert  the  men  in  the  world,  but  the  world 
itself.     Go  to  a  corrupt  village — some  God-forsaken 
spot,  where  all  is  vice  and  iniquity,  and  convert  one 
man ;  let  everything  around  him  continue  depraved 
and  degrading  as  it  was  before,  and  with  this  evil 
influence  constantly  working  upon  him,  what  will  be 
the  result  ?     May  be  he  will  stand — yes,  that's  the 
word,  stand /  but  he  will  not  travel.     Thus,  suppose 
that,  after  a  great  portion  of  the  Roman  empire  had 
been  converted,  the  old  Horn  an  priestly  government 
had  been  suffered  to  remain,  with  the  old  heathen 
worship,  the  old  social  customs,  the  old  laws,   and 
everything   else   as   in   its   pagan   state,   why,  these 
mounted  batteries  of  theirs  would  have  swept  the 
flanks  and  rear  of  the  Christian  army  perpetually. 


34:4  PROGRESS    OF    CHRISTIANITY. 

There  would  liave  been  no  gradual  melioration  of  the 
world.  It  would  have  stood,  perhaps,  but  a  converted 
man  must  not  only  stand,  he  must  grow  in  grace. 
IF  it  were  God's  plan  to  work  by  miracles,  the  con 
version  of  the  world  had  been  as  easy  as  the  creation 
or  the  flood.  But  he  intends  his  truth  to  work  its 
way  by  the  natural  operation  of  those  laws  by  which 
the  mind  of  man  is  governed.  Was  this  change,  a 
change  which  was  to  be  wrought  in  Religion  and 
Politics,  in  the  capitol  and  the  forum,  in  literature 
and  the  laws,  in  marriage  and  manners,  in  the  study 
and  in  the  shop,  was  all  this  to  be  the  work  of  time, 
or  of  a  day  ?  Go  to  some  of  the  most  polluted  pur 
lieus  of  this  city,  take  thence  a  boy  who  was  literally 
born  in  sin,  the  son  of  the  vilest  of  parents,  a  youth 
who  has  been  trained  arid  graduated  in  iniquity; 
suppose  that  it  is  discovered  that  he  is  related  to 
some  one  of  your  high  families,  let  one  who  is  a  gen 
tleman  and  a  Christian  take  him  from  his  filthy  den, 
wash,  literally  wash,  shave,  and  shear  him,  dress  him, 
brings  him  into  his  family  and  adopt  him  for  his  own. 
Suppose,  too,  that  it  is  with  the  boy's  own  consent,  and 
he  says :  "  I  will  be  to  you  a  son."  Is  he  as  yet  really 
changed  by  all  this  ?  Only  in  external  things.  lie 
has  yet  an  imagination  which  must  be  gone  through, 
all  its  vile  and  reeking  passages  explored  and  cleansed ; 
and  you  must  pour  into  his  mind  the  riches  of  know 
ledge,  of  the  laws,  of  morality  and  honesty,  delicacy, 
purity  and  truth.  His  whole  sphere  has  to  be  changed. 
You  cannot  take  such  a  one,  clean  him  and  dress  him, 
give  him  a  long  moral  lecture  at  nine  o'clock  at 
night,  and  expect  him  to  get  up  a  thoroughly  changed 


PROGRESS    OF   CHRISTIANITY.  345 

man  in  the  morning — no,  nor  in  a  year.  If,  begin 
ning  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  the  work  has  been  com 
pleted  by  the  time  he  is  twenty-one,  the  work  has 
been  done  quickly.  If,  in  this  time,  you  have  scoured 
out  those  sewers  of  his  mind,  and  converted  them  into 
channels  of  God's  pure  and  refreshing  grace — I  say 
again  you  have  done  the  work  quickly !  JSTow,  if  it  is 
such  long  labor  with  one  boy,  with  all  the  influences 
of  Christianity  breathing  around  him — if,  from  the 
nature  of  the  mind  itself,  under  even  the  most  favor 
able  circumstances,  the  change  must  be  so  slow,  what 
length  of  time  wrill  it  take  for  a  whole  world  ?  A 
world,  too,  where  wickedness  was  organized  and  with 
its  gigantic  front,  and  black  heart  festering  in  corrup 
tion,  said  to  the  Gospel,  "  we  will  have  none  of  you," 
— a  world  which  was  that  darkness  into  which  the 
Gospel  was  sent,  and  the  darkness  comprehended  it 
not.  The  leaven  must  be  hid  within  three  measures 
of  meal,  and  it  will  take  its  own  time  to  work. 

Sometimes  the  best  way  to  reform  is  to  destroy, 
as  in  the  case  of  weeds.  Sometimes  defects  could  be 
cured  by  making  additions  or  taking  away  obstruc 
tions  or  superfluities,  by  purifying  and  cleansing, 
without  destroying  the  fabric  itself.  But  when  the 
edifice  is  old,  and  badly  built  in  the  first  place,  when 
every  crack  and  cranny  is  overflowing  with  vermin, 
all  scouring,  and  patching,  and  painting,  is  labor 
thrown  away;  you  must  pull  it  down,  stone  from 
stone,  and  then,  when  these  stones  have  been  tho 
roughly  cleansed,  you  may,  with  fresh  mortar,  con 
struct  a  new  and  noble  dwelling.  Now  when  the 
old  heathen  government  presented  its  huge  front  to 


346  PROGRESS   OF   CHRISTIANITY. 

the  first  attack  of  the  Gospel,  with  its  doors  barred, 
its  ramparts  mounted,  its  windows  guarded,  and  all 
its  avenues  fortified,  you  might  as  wTell  preach  to  the 
front  of  Astor's  Hotel,  and  expect  it  to  drop  tears  of 
penitence  ;  you  might  have  assaulted  it  in  front  and 
rear,  and  bombarded  it  from  year  to  year,  and  all 
without  securing  a  surrender.  But  did  you  ever  see 
a  stream  meet  a  sturdy  rock  in  its  course,  how  it  parts 
and  flows,  one  channel  on  this  side  and  another  on 
that  ?  So  the  stream  of  the  Gospel  ran  around  the 
fortress  of  paganism.  But  there  was  another  work 
going  on.  For  while  the  waters  ran  on,  gurgling  like 
music,  they  were  gradually  sapping  the  foundations 
of  the  mighty  citadel ;  buttress  after  buttress  gave 
way,  tower  after  tower  sank  down  to  rise  no  more, 
until  at  last  the  whole  structure  fell  in  hopeless  ruins. 
So  has  it  been  in  Europe.  Revolution  after  Revolu 
tion,  change  after  change,  wars  after  wars,  constantly 
swaying  backward  and  forward. 

I  once  knew  a  student  of  Religion,  who  took  up 
Mosheim's  "  Church  History,"  and  on  finishing  it, 
said:  "Well,  if  this  is  your  religion,  I  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it ;  why,  it  is  nothing  but  fighting, 
fighting,  forever  and  always  fighting !"  But  only 
go  into  a  field  of  wheat  and  examine  the  grain. 
You  are  delighted  with  the  long  green  leaves  and 
the  beautiful  golden  grain. — Suppose  you  see  it  by 
and  by  cut  down,  and  after  being  soundly  thrashed, 
stowed  in  bags,  and  taken  to  the  mill.  There,  it  is 
thrown  into  the  hopper,  it  goes  between  the  mill 
stones,  and  on  appearing  below,  you  are  astonished 
at  the  result.  Where  is  now  all  the  comeliness,  and 


PROGRESS    OF   CHRISTIANITY.  347 

grace,  and  wondrous  mechanism,  and  bending  beauty 
of  the  original  grain  ?  All  gone !  This  seems  very 
hard,  yet  every  housewife  could  tell  you  that  you 
cannot  make  bread  without  it.  Thus  it  was  with  the 
old  society.  It  was  full  of  rough  stones  and  jagged 
rocks,  savage  customs,  cruelties,  superstitions,  lusts, 
bad  laws,  vile  manners  and  customs,  and  how  could 
all  this  be  molded  for  Christ?  The  voice  of 
history  said,  by  attrition,  by  wars,  revolutions,  and 
commotions  of  every  kind.  These  did  the  grind 
ing  up,  just  as  in  the  flowing  of  torrents  and  streams 
the  rough  stones  are  worn  smooth.  These  wars  and 
revolutions,  he  knew,  were  called  civil  and  politi 
cal,  and  not  religious.  But  did  not  God  know 
all  about  them  ?  Did  not  his  prophets  foresee  them, 
and  does  not  his  hand  guide  them  for  the  fulfillment 
of  his  purposes?  Then  they  were  religious.  JSTor, 
if  you  regard  the  laws  of  the  human  mind,  had  this 
progress  been  slow.  It  led  through  war  and  blood 
shed,  but  it  must  reach  its  consummation.  Has  any 
such  consummation  taken  place  ?  Draw  the  contrast 
between  our  day  and  the  apostolic  time. 

One  hundred  years  after  the  death  of  Christ,  where 
were  the  arts,  painting,  poetry,  sculpture,  architec 
ture?  Where  were  learning,  refinement,  the  civil 
law,  the  influence  of  the  court,  the  money  and  com 
merce — the  very  warp  and  woof  of  society? They 

were  all  on  the  side  of  heathenism.     The  symbol  of 

Christianity    was    then     the     empty    cross empty 

because  Christ,  who  had  hung  thereon,  was  ascended 
up  to  heaven.  Now  that  1800  years  have  passed, 
where  is  heathenism,  with  all  her  pomp  and  pride/ 


34-8  PROGRESS    OF    CHRISTIANITY. 

her  strength  and  royal  robes  ?  She  is  fallen  into  the 
last  stage  of  muttering  decrepitude.  Whose  fleets 
are  those  that  whiten  every  sea  ?  Whose  arts,  and 
arms,  and  wealth  are  those  that  astonish  and  rule  the 
world  ?  Whose  are  the  schools  and  colleges,  the 
learning,  the  wisdom,  the  treasure  of  the  earth  ?  All 
in  the  hands  of  Christians.  It  seemed,  too,  that  the 
richest  temporal  blessings  had  always  followed  the 
nations  that  had  the  most  spiritual  life.  This  was 
the  oft  repeated  promise  of  the  Bible,  and  every 
finger-board  of  history  points  to  the  contrast.  Christ 
ianity  now  stands  triumphant  in  the  world  ;  her 
whole  solid  front  is  formed,  and  her  face  is  set  as 
though  she  would  go  up  to  Jerusalem.  And  what 
has  been  done  to  cause  this  ?  Why,  all  the  questions 
have  been  raised  that  could  be  raised  ;  question  after 
question  has  been  decided,  and  the  decisions  have 
been  baptized  in  blood.  This  was  necessary  before 
the  Gospel  could  get  full  swing  at  society.  Hitherto, 
men  suffered  from  intervening  obstacles.  They  were 
brought  up  to  hear  with  government  ears  or  parental 
ears,  or  to  look  at  things  through  this  lens  or  that  of 
prejudice ;  but  by  and  by  they  were  coming  to 
listen  with  their  own  ears,  and  look  without  lenses — 
without  any  diverting  or  distorting  medium,  at  truth. 
It  was  objected,  that  the  churches  were  so  divided 
and  agitated,  that  new  sects  were  starting  up  as 
thick  as  mosquitoes,  that  new  societies  and  new 
fangled  notions  of  every  kind  were  multiplying  in  a 
fearful  ratio.  What  of  it?  While  the  Lord  God 
omnipotent  reigneth,  the  end  of  all  this  cannot  bo 
doiibtful.  But  there  was  one  thing  to  be  noticed. — 


PROGRESS    OF   CHRISTIANITY.  349 

Ostensibly,  all  these  agitations  and  novelties  had  but 
one  sole  end  in  view,  one  object  at  bottom ;  the 
improvement  of  the  human  race.  ]S[ot  an  infidel  but 
is  compelled  to  do  this  before  he  can  obtain  a  hearing. 
When  was  ever  the  like  of  this  seen  in  the  world's 
history  before  ?  Why,  this  is  the  very  foundation 
principle  of  the  Bible  itself!  And  is  this  what  the 
old,  selfish,  proud  world  has  come  to  ?  She  that  used 
so  scornfully  to  smite  the  face  of  the  preacher? — Is 
Saul  among  the  prophets  at  last?  God  works  on 
patterns  of  such  vast  size,  that  we  cannot  see  them. 
And  we  should  learn  to  look  on  all  obstructions  and 
trials,  persecutions,  sufferings,  as  only  momentary 
sorrows.  They  cannot  last  long.  Along  the  banks 
of  the  Mississippi,  here  and  there,  may  be  seen  a 
backward  eddy,  but  who  would,  therefore,  think  the 
whole  huge  river  had  ceased  flowing  onward  ?  So, 
from  the  time  of  the  apostles,  though  there  had 
been  backward  eddies  in  the  stream  of  the  Church, 
yet  in  every  period  of  hundreds  of  years,  might  be 
marked  a  distinct  flowing  onward  of  the  main  tide, 
until  now  it  can  never  be  stopped  so  long  as  God 
lives !  The  question  is  no  longer,  whether  the  con 
summation  will  come,  but  when?  As  things  are 
now,  we  lend  jiot  only  the  Bible,  but  we  lend  the 
influence  of  our  churches,  our  schools,  town  institu 
tions,  laws,  hospitals,  commerce,  stores  and  shops,  the 
whole  spirit  of  our  society  to  the  evangelization  of 
the  world — for  everything  is  more  or  less  an  instru 
ment  of  Christianity.  By  this  incalculable  influence 
are  we  backed.  When  we  strike  with  puny  arm,  the 
blow  is  accompanied  by  a  rebounding  stroke  from 


350  PROGRESS   OF   CHRISTIANITY. 

all  Christendom.  We  have  gained  momentum  and 
rapidity,  and  can  now  go  through  a  revolution, 
changing  public  sentiment  from  selfishness  to  benevo 
lence,  in  twenty-five  or  thirty  yeaics.  In  fine  :  those 
laboring  in  the  field  must  have  a  faith  above  the  neces 
sity  of  seeing  the  consummation.  We  know  that  the4, 
influence  of  Calvary  can  never  die.  I  may  die  in 
the  wilderness,  and  you  may  die  on  the  sea  ;  but  the 
road  to  heaven  is  as  short  from  India  as  it  is  from 
Indiana,  and  when  once  in  heaven  we  shall  see  a 
much  better  sight  than  Moses  saw  from  the  top  of 
Pisgah,  and  every  one  may  gaze  on  it  who  has  done 
one  jot  or  one  tittle  to  advance  the  work.  Whisper 
it  then  into  the  ears  of  your  children,  that  "  the  field 
is  the  world !"  Ye  who  are  bringing  up  your  own 
flesh  and  blood  to  delight  in  dress,  in  worldly  aggran 
dizement,  in  wealth,  in  ambition,  in  honor,  have  you 
not  seen  what  the  Lord  is  doing  ?  Have  you  not  seen 
that  his  service  is  becoming  the  path  to  honor?  that 
working  for  the  world,  is  the  shortest  road  to  promo 
tion  in  our  day  ?  Teach  your  children  to  give  up 
their  soul  and  body  and  strength  to  their  master's 
service.  Thus  shall  they  be  nearer  to  God  and  God 
to  them.  Say  unto  him — "  Lo !  here  are  our  child 
ren  !"  Bring  them  up  to  believe  that  they  must  not 
live  for  themselves,  but  for  others.  May  God  breathe 
the  richness  and  fullness  of  this  spirit  over  his  uni 
versal  Church. 


DUTIES  OF  RELIGIOUS   PUBLISHING  SOCIETIES.* 

IT  is  not  possible  for  Christians  to  have  come  to 
these  anniversaries  this  year,  without  a  solemn  sense 
of  the  presence  of  God  moving  in  the  affairs  of  the 
world,  with  a  majesty  and  revealed  power  transcend 
ing  the  ordinary  measure  of  the  Divine  Providence. 
He  is  now  speaking,  as  only  God  can  speak,  by  the 
voice  of  fear,  by  the  pangs  of  terror,  by  the  shakings 
of  revolutions,  by  wars,  and  by  rumors  of  war.  Every 
man  who  is  accustomed  to  read  the  word  of  God 
with  his  eye  upon  the  times,  as  its  best  interpreta 
tion,  and  who  reads  the  times  in  which  he  lives  by 
the  illumination  of  God's  Word,  must  be  aware  that 
we  stand  upon  the  eve  of  great  things,  either  for  good 
or  for  mischief,  and  if  for  mischief,  only  for  greater 
good  by  and  by ;  for,  when  God  sows  trouble,  it  is 
the  seed  out  of  which  he  means  to  reap  righteousness 
in  the  end. 

There  is  no  more  any  quiet  in  all  the  earth ;  there 
is  no  longer  anywhere  apathy ;  there  are  almost  no 
places  on  the  globe  wrhere  men  are  torpid,  except  in 
Tract  Societies;  and  every  land,  every  continent, 
every  race,  every  nation,  is  stirring  as  forests  shake 
when  winds  are  moving  upon  them.  All  men  are 

*  An  Address  delivered  in  Dr.  Cheever's  church,  New  York,  before 
the  (Boston)  American  Tract  Society,  May  12th,  1859. 

851 


352        DUTIKS    OF    RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

looking  out  to  know  what  tilings  are  about  to  befall 
the  earth.  In  our  own  way,  we,  too,  in  this  happy 
land,  are  agitated.  We  are  not  stirred  up  by  war, 
nor  alarmed  by  rumors  of  war.  We  are  not  shaken 
by  revolution,  nor  shattered  by  intestine  dissensions  ; 
although  many  hearts  among  us  are  hot.  Passions 
are  wild  here,  as  in  other  lands ;  great  interests  are 
at  stake ;  mighty  conflicts  are  waged ;  and  yet,  the 
laws  are  unbroken,  the  peace  of  the  State  abides 
sure,  the  household  is  serene,  secular  affairs  flow  in 
their  ordinary  channels,  deep  and  strong  as  the  flow 
of  rivers. 

What  is  the  reason  that  those  causes  which  in  other 
lands  break  out  into  wars,  with  us  produce  only  dis 
cussions  ?  How  is  it  that  we  settle  by  our  breath, 
and  by  ink,  those  interests  which  abroad  are  settled 
by  the  sword,  and  by  the  crash  of  wasting  artillery  ? 
Why  do  not  those  wild  and  tumultuous  elements 
which  in  other  lands  rend  communities  as  earth 
quakes  crack  the  earth,  bring  revolutions  to  us  ? 

Because  God  has  taught  us  upon  this  side  of  the 
ocean  that  liberty,  which  cures  evils,  also  prevents 
them.  Discussions  in  schools  and  in  popular  assem 
blies  is  better  than  all  diplomacy  and  crafty  states 
manship  for  the  interests  of  peace ;  for  where  the 
tongue  is  tied,  the  sword  is  free.  America  binds  up 
the  sword  by  giving  the  tongue  liberty.  It  is  our 
faith  that  liberty  does  not  belong  alone  to  the  hand 
and  to  the  foot,  but  to  the  thoughts,  to  the  conscience, 
and  to  the  tongue  to  give  forth  what  conscience  and 
the  understanding  prompt.  Therefore  it  is,  while 
emperors,  and  kings,  and  little  kings,  and  priests,  and 


DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.         353 

little  priests,  are  being  tossed  up  and  down  as  ships 
or  chips  are  tossed  on  the  broad  ocean  of  storms, 
we,  agitating  deeper  questions,  are  preserved  in  quiet. 

I  know  that  there  are  some  men  who  fear  the 
results  of  discussion  among  us,  and  predict  national 
rupture  and  disunion.  Men  there  are  whose  keel  is 
fear,  and  all  whose  ribs  are  cowardice,  and  whose 
whole  life  is  but  a  quaking  voyage  of  apprehension. 
They  are  always  about  to  sink.  The  function  of  their 
life  is  gone  if  there  be  no  ill-omened  auguries  darken 
ing  the  future.  Some  men  there  are  who  sleep  on 
tins  matter  of  disunion.  They  wake  on  it.  It  is 
their  food  at  morning ;  it  is  their  noonday  meal ; 
they  sup  upon  it.  It  is  their  Sunday  devotion,  and 
their  week-day  horror.  Disunion  !  You  might  just 
as  well  fear  that  the  continent  would  break  in  two 
because  running  rivers  cleanse  their  waters  on  its 
back,  and  the  restless  ocean  laps  its  sides,  as  that  this 
Union  will  break  in  two  because  men  wage  wars  of 
opinion,  and  in  free  discussion  bring  all  interests  to 
the  arbitration  of  reason. 

Indeed,  I  fear  that  this  people  is  too  selfish  ever  to 
break  asunder.  Our  danger  is  not  in  disunion.  The 
devil  has  too  large  investments  in  this  land  to  admit 
of  disunion.  There  is  nothing  that  Satan  would  gain 
by  it — much  that  Christ  might.  Why,  then,  are  we 
not  in  danger  ?  Simply  because  we  have  learned  to 
trust  the  people,  and  to  make  them  trustworthy  by 
intelligence,  by  moral  education,  and  by  the  unre 
strained,  yet  regulated  use  of  their  rights  as  free  men. 
Other  lands  make  the  individual  weak,  to  make  the 
State  strong;  but  we  teach  and  believe  that  the 


354        DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

strength  of  the  State  is  iu  the  strength  of  its  individ 
ual  members.  We  put  trust,  not  alone  in  collective 
man,  but  in  the  individual  man.  And  that  we  may 
not  be  deceived,  by  the  whole  force  of  our  educa 
tional  institutions  and  our  political  arrangements,  we 
seek  to  make  the  individual  man,  the  land  over, 
trustworthy. 

Our  nation,  by  its  organic  political  institutions,  is 
but  a  continental  debating  society.  Our  newspapers, 
and  winged  bo6ks,  daily  bear  before  every  indivi 
dual  of  the  land  every  question  that  affects  the  wel 
fare  of  the  State.  Our  people  are  invited,  and 
provoked,  to  the  most  searching  scrutiny,  to  the  for 
mation  of  their  own  independent  opinions,  to  the 
fullest  expression  of  their  convictions,  and  to  the 
utmost  liberty  of  waging  moral  battle  for  that  which 
they  deem  right  and  just.  And  when,  out  of  this 
universal  activity,  out  of  the  conflict  of  interests  and 
judgments  and  experiences  of  a  whole  people,  final 
results  are  obtained,  they  take  the  form  of  laws,  and 
walk  among  us  supreme,  not  simply  by  the  enact 
ment  of  legislators,  but  supreme  by  the  convictions 
of  an  intelligent  people. 

I  would  that  this  lesson  of  the  freedom  of  discus 
sion  and  its  benefits  had  been  learned  as  perfectly  by 
all  as  it  has  been  by  some ;  or,  rather,  as  perfectly  by 
some  among  us,  as  it  has  been  by  all  the  rest  of  the 
community.  But  it  would  seem  as  if  some  men 
gained  education  only  by  the  loss  of  common  sense. 
There  are  thousands  in  whom  prosperity  and  intelli 
gence  have  wrought  a  conceit  which  makes  them 
distrustful  of  the  common  people.  They  are  arro- 


DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING   SOCIETIES.        355 

gant,  contemptuous  of  those  beneath  them  in  social 
position,  and  stand  together  in  classes,  with  mutual 
flatteries  and  a  common  conceit.  They  are  bound 
together  in  a  common  emptiness,  as  the  staves  of  a 
barrel  are  bound  together  around  the  vacuity  of  an 
unfilled  centre.  Nor  have  I  ever  before  seen  a  more 
remarkable  instance  of  the  contempt  with  which  con 
ceited  men  look  upon  free  discussion,  than  that  which 
was  exhibited  upon  the  platform  of  the  Tract  Society, 
at  its  recent  anniversary,  on  the  boards  of  the  Opera 
House  in  New  York.  "Whatever  prejudices  have 
hitherto  existed  against  the  morals  of  an  opera  house, 
must,  since  that  platform  held  such  actors,  receive 
double  force ;  and  I  am  sure  that  no  ordinary  play,  and 
no  opera,  bad  even  as  Don  Giovanni  itself,  can  have 
a  more  mischievous  effect  upon  the  popular  mind, 
than  the  shameless  exhibition  which  took  place  on 
that  occasion,  and  by  the  reverend  and  legal  actors. 
There  it  was  that  one  of  the  most  distinguished  civil 
ians  of  New  York  was  pleased  to  inform  the  audience, 
in  a  speech  preliminary  to  the  gagging  of  that  audi 
ence,  that  a  deliberative  body  was  not  a  safe  place  for 
the  discussion  of  grave  questions.  The  Reverend 
Daniel  Lord  it  was — for  so  I  read  his  title  in  the 
report  of  the  Tribune,  though  when  he  took  orders  I 
am  not  informed — the  Reverend  Daniel  Lord  de 
clared  that  the  excited  feelings  of  deliberative  bodies 
and  popular  assemblies  were  not  favorable  to  investi 
gations  of  truth.  The  mouths  of  the  lions  among 
whom  ancient  Daniel  fell  were  not  shut  half  so  tight 
as  the  mouths  of  those  among  whom  the  modern 
Daniel  fell. 


356        DUTIES    OF    REMOIOU8    PUBLISHING   SOCIETIES. 

When  I  looked  around,  and  saw  that  almost  every 
other  man  in  that  assembly  was  a  grey-haired  man  ; 
that  hundreds  of  them  were  pastors  inured  to  de 
bate  all  their  lives — men  who  had  given  their 
thoughts  both  to  books  and  to  the  discussions  of  liv 
ing  men — an  assembly,  the  average  age  of  whose 
members  could  not  fall  short  of  fifty  years,  and  then 
heard  this  eminent  legal  gentleman,  himself  a  grey- 
haired  man,  to  whom  impetuosity  and  fire  seemed 
anything  but  congenial,  descanting  upon  the  danger 
of  being  consumed  by  the  wild-fire  of  deliberative 
assemblies,  I  could  not  but  think  that  there  was  just 
about  as  much  need  of  sending  fire-engines  to  grave 
yards  to  put  out  tombstones,  as  of  repressive 
measures  in  such  an  assembly  to  extinguish  the  con 
flagrations  kindled  by  free  discussion. 

That  the  Tract  Society  should  ever  have  needed 
that  any  should  remind  them  of  their  duty  to  the 
poorest  among  the  poor,  and  the  most  ignorant 
among  the  ignorant — four  million  American  slaves — 
is  itself  enough  disgrace.  That  when  the  voice  of  a 
Christian  people,  sounding  louder  and  louder  every 
year  and  coming  up  from  twenty  States,  like  the 
sound  of  many  waters  and  mighty  thunderings, 
demanding  that  the  Society,  which  professed  to 
express  in  its  publications  the  full  truths  of  the 
Christian  religion,  should  give  utterance  to  some 
religious  truth  bearing  upon  this  most  serious  and 
most  grievous  evil  of  our  times  and  nation,  they 
should  stop  their  ears,  and  taking  counsel  of  sinister 
interests,  refuse  to  bear  their  testimony  ;  that  every 
year  dumbness  should  be  defended  by  them  as  a 


DUTIES    OF    RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.        357 

Christian  virtue,  and  moral  cowardice  pleaded  as  a 
duty,  was  enough  to  bring  up  again  into  our  ears 
that  solemn  denunciation  which  eighteen  hundred 
years  ago  made  Jerusalem  tremble — "  "Woe  unto 
you  scribes,  pharisees  and  lawyers  !"* 

And  now,  upon  this  day,  in  compact  of  evil,  stood 
again,  in  this  extemporized  temple,  priest  and  law 
yer,  determined  to  justify  their  own  recreancy,  and 
to  forbid  other  people  the  rights  of  that  free  speech 
which  they  had  guiltily  refused  to  employ.  And  this 
anniversary  meeting  of  the  Tract  Society  had  for  its 
primary  object,  this  one  thing — to  gag  men,  and  to 
prevent  free  discussion.  They  dreaded  honest  men's 
tongues.  They  knew  that  if  those  that  were  there 
gathered  together,  had  had  the  right  to  pass  in 
review  their  conduct,  in  the  light  of  God's  law,  in 
the  light  of  God's  providence,  in  the  light  of  sober 
Christian  reason,  they  could  no  more  stand  up,  tough 
as  they  are,  broadspread  and  rooted  in  prosperity, 
than  the  mightiest  oaks  can  stand  when  God  sends 
thunderbolts  from  heaven  upon  them. 

And  so  they  called  not  this  year,  as  last,  the  special 
pleaders  of  the  clergy,  but  the  tricksters  of  the  law, 
prepared  with  every  mean  device  of  caucus  and 
political  manoeuvre,  to  anticipate  and  ward  off  free 
speech,  and  shield  themselves  behind  this  enforced 
silence.  Not  one  word  was  allowed  to  be  said  at  that 
meeting  upon  those  questions  which  the  Almighty 
God  has  sent  upon  this  nation ;  which,  in  spite  of 
wrath,  and  leagued  resistance  of  men  of  might,  and 
wealth,  and  worldly  wisdom,  he  has,  for  twenty-five 
years,  sunk  deeper  and  deeper  in  the  hearts  of  men ; 


358        DUTIES    OF    RELIGIOUS    TUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

with  which  he  hath  already  wrought  a  revolutions  of 
opinion,  and  by  which  yet  he  will  change  the  face  of 
affairs  in  this  whole  land.  None  of  those  things  which 
you  think,  which  I  think,  which  all  men  are  thinking, 
which  they  themselves,  per  force,  think,  were 
allowed  to  be  spoken,  but  only  pettifogging  things, 
technical  things,  managing,  wire-pulling,  caucusing 
things.  Their  object  was  to  keep  men  from  talking 
who  had  something  earnest  to  say,  and  let  those  men 
talk  who  desired  to  say  nothing.  It  was,  therefore, 
a  plea  against  fullness,  richness  and  substance  of 
moral  conviction,  in  favor  of  emptiness  and  pretence. 
And  it  became  very  evident  that  the  time  had  come 
when  this  [Boston]  American  Tract  Society,  which 
had  priority  in  the  field  over  the  other  that  held  there 
its  disgraceful  Anniversary,  should  again  resume  its 
independence,  and,  in  appropriate  methods,  express 
the  Christian  sentiment  of  the  Church  in  our  day. 

The  Boston  Tract  Society  has  been,  like  some  old 
gentleman  retiring  from  business,  leaving  to  his  sons 
the  conduct  of  his  affairs ;  and  yet,  always,  he  keeps  a 
sharp  eye  upon  their  management.  When,  at  length, 
he  perceives  that  their  prosperity  is  turning  their 
heads,  and  that  they  are  running  the  concern  into  im 
minent  perils,  he  assumes  again  into  his  own  hands  the 
lapsed  management.  And  so  it  is  time  that  this  So 
ciety  should  come  forward  again,  and  say  to  these 
young  men  in  the  Opera  House,  "  You  are  scarcely 
competent  to  conduct  the  religious  literature  of  the 
Church." 

But,  before  I  speak  further,  allow  me  to  call  your 
attention  to  some  of  the  views  uttered  upon  the  occa- 


DUTIES    OF    RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING   SOCIETIES.       359 

sion  of  the  late  Anniversary,  by  the  chief  speaker, 
and  the  most  specious  one,  Daniel  Lord.  The  follow 
ing  are  his  words  :  "  As  to  the  donors  " — speaking  of 
the  contributors  of  the  Tract  Society,  he  says — "  As 
to  the  donors,  they  give  their  property  to  the  charity ; 
it  is  an  entire  gift,  parting  with  their  right  as  pro 
prietors.  After  a  thing  is  given,  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  knows,  that  the  giver  can  no  longer  control 
or  direct  it.  If,  therefore,  all  those  who  have  con 
tributed  to  make  up  this  fund  from  the  beginning  of 
this  Society,  even  if  the  venerated  dead  could  be 
raised  to  be  present,  they  could  have  no  right  to  in 
terfere  with  or  change  the  administration  of  the  fund. 
They  gave  it  away.  But  for  what  purpose,  on  what 
plan  did  they  give  it  ?  Ascertain  this,  and  you  ascer 
tain  the  character  of  the  property  and  the  plan  of  its 
management.  Learn  on  what  plan  it  was  solicited 
and  received,  and  then  the  property  is  to  be  protected 
and  devoted  to  this  plan.  And  every  consideration 
not  only  of  law,  but  of  justice  and  morality,  of  honor, 
religion,  and  gratitude,  secure  its  management  in  the 
very  way  and  to  the  precise  object  intended.  It  is 
thus  eminently  a  trust  property.  The  Society  does 
not  own  it  for  itself.  If  all  of  its  members  could  be 
collected  together,  and  should  agree  to  apply  it  to 
their  own  use,  such  an  attempt  would  shock,  and  such 
an  act  be  idle.  Nor  can  they  deviate  in  its  use  or 
management  from  the  plan  on  which  it  is  given,  for 
the  same  reason." 

Here  let  me  say  that  with  all  the  apparent  fairness 
of  this  statement,  it  is  thoroughly  deceitful,  for  it 
mentions  the  object  or  purpose  for  which  these  funds 


360        DUTIES    OF    RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

were  contributed,  and  the  plan  of  management,  as  if 
they  were  one,  and  the  same  thing,  and  the  words 
purpose*  and  plan  are  used  as  convertible  terms, 
bearing  equivalent  meanings;  wThereas,  no  distinc 
tion  can  be  more  important,  no  distinction  can 
touch  the  very  marrow  of  things  more  really  than 
that  which  exists  between  the  object  for  which  funds 
are  contributed,  and  the  plan  of  administration  by 
which  they  shall  be  used  for  that  object.  Mr.  Lord, 
however,  speaking  of  the  objects  and  purposes  for 
which  they  were  given,  goes  on  to  discuss,  not  what 
those  objects  are,  which  is  the  very  question  at  issue 
between  him  and  us — between  him  and  the  indig 
nant  community — but,  by  a  dexterous  and  quiet 
change,  proceeds  to  discuss  the  questions  of  society 
management.  He  proceeds  thus : 

"  The  plan  of  this  charity  is  contained  in  its  written 
constitution ;  and,  first,  let  us  consider  who  are  its 
beneficiaries.  They  are  the  ignorant,  the  unenlight 
ened,  the  needy,  over  the  whole  country.  And  how 
are  they  to  receive  the  benefits?  By  the  circulation 
of  religious  tracts.  Circulation  may  fairly  be  used  as 
a  name  to  represent  the  beneficiaries.  The  object  of 
the  charity  is  not  to  declare  the  principles  of  its  man 
agers  or  members ;  not  to  discuss  or  settle  controver 
sies  ;  not  to  declare  for  or  against  slavery ;  but  to  en 
lighten  its  beneficiaries  by  the  circulation  of  tracts. 
This  is  the  limit  of  its  action,  on  the  plainest  reading 
of  the  paper." 

Let  the  public,  then,  ponder  this  declaration  made 
by  this  eminent  attorney,  in  the  presence  of  the  man 
agers  of  the  American  Tract  Society,  at  its  Anni- 


DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.        361 

versary  meeting,  in  the  Opera  House.  Let  every 
man  in  the  United  States  ponder  this  received,  and, 
by  the  management,  uncontradicted,  declaration  that 
the  object  for  which  the  funds  of  the  American  Tract 
Society  were  solicited  was  not  the  discussion  or  settle 
ment  of  controversies ;  was  not  the  declarations  of 
the  principles  of  its  managers  or  members ;  was  not 
to  declare  for  or  against  slavery;  but  that  it  was 
simply  the  mechanical  business  of  circulating  tracts 
without  regard  to  what  those  tracts  contain.  If  this 
specious  plea  of  Mr.  Lord  means  anything,  it  means 
that  tracts  are  to  be  circulated  by  the  Society  with 
out  regard  to  the  character  of  their  contents,  after 
they  shall  once  have  become  tracts.  But  where  are 
tracts  born  ?  What  is  the  origin  of  a  tract  ?  Who 
makes  them  ?  Who  generates  them  1  Who  is  their 
father  ?  Do  they  grow  on  trees  ?  Are  they  dug  out 
of  catacombs  and  pyramids  ?  Are  they,  like  gold  and 
silver,  like  diamonds  and  pearls,  things  created  from 
the  foundation  of  the  world  ?  And  is  the  American 
Tract  Society  but  a  vast  catapult,  built  to  fire  these 
foreordained  and  prepared  missives  and  missiles  into 
the  midst  of  the  community  ?  Is  the  American  Tract 
Society,  according  to  Mr.  Lord,  analogous  to  the 
United  States  Mail  service,  receiving  into  its  leathern 
pouches  already-written  letters,  with  which  the  gov 
ernment  has  no  right  to  meddle,  and  in  whose  con 
tents  it  does  not  concern  itself,  and  whose  sole  busi 
ness  it  is  to  circulate  them,  and  deposit  them  at  the 
points  to  which  they  are  directed  ?  Is  the  American 
Tract  Society,  then,  a  vast  religious  Express  Company, 
which  is  to  receive  packages  of  tracts  and  books,  and 

16 


362        DUTIES   OF   EELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

circulate  them  ?  And  is  this  the  business  of  the  Tract 
Society,  not  to  make  tracts,  not  to  express  great  reli 
gious  truths,  not  to  develop  great  principles  in  their 
relations  to  the  actual  human  want  in  the  times  in 
which  we  live  ?  Is  it  the  object  of  the  American 
Tract  Society  merely  to  circulate  something?  Tliis, 
certainly,  is  the  position  that  Mr.  Lord  seems  to 
take. 

Nor  have  we  heard  one  indignant  protest  from  any 
member  of  the  Executive  Committee,  or  of  the  man 
agement,  of  the  Tract  Society.  If  such  things  'are 
right  before  a  jury ;  if  it  be  deemed  right  to  gain  a 
temporary  victory  for  one's  clients,  at  the  expense  of 
fact,  and  from  any  Courts  of  Justice,  it  certainly  will 
not  be  deemed  right  by  the  reflecting  and  religious 
community,  for  a  man  to  stand  upon  the  religious 
platform  of  a  prominent  benevolent  society,  and  to 
declare  so  deceptive  and  so  false  a  thing  as  that  the 
funds  of  this  Society  were  solicited,  and  were  origin 
ally  given,  for  the  purpose  simply  of  circulating  tracts 
without  any  regard  to  the  contents  which  they  con 
tained.  On  the  other  hand,  nothing  was  more  uni 
versally  well  understood  than  that  the  American 
Tract  Society  was  organized  for  the  purpose  of  pre 
paring  tracts  as  well  as  circulating  them,  which 
should  apply  the  great  principles  of  Divine  truth  re 
vealed  in  the  sacred  Scriptures,  to  the  actual  wants, 
to  the  errors,  to  the  sins,  to  the  experiences  of  man 
kind.  That  the  management  were  to  judge  what 
was  expedient,  may  be  true ;  but  that  the  manage 
ment,  in  the  very  nature  of  the  trust  committed  to 
them,  were  forbidden  to  discuss  principles,  and  to  de- 


DUTIES   OF   RELIGIOUS   PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.        363 

clare  their  own  views  of  moral  truth,  is  an  assertion 
so  monstrous,  so  infidel  to  all  faith  in  Scripture,  and 
to  religion  itself,  that  I  marvel  that  so  many  men, 
that  knew  better,  did  not  stop  their  ill-advised  advo 
cate  on  the  spot,  and  correct  a  misrepresentation 
which,  in  the  end,  cannot  fail  to  be  most  damaging 
to  the  interests  of  these  special  pleaders  and  petti 
fogging  managers. 

According  to  this  doctrine,  then,  if  smuggling 
should  become  a  practice  along  our  whole  northern 
coast,  and  maritime  churches  should  have  smuggling 
deacons,  and  smuggling  ministers,  and  smuggling 
members,  the  management  of  the  American  Tract 
Society  would  have  no  right  to  declare  their  views  in 
respect  to  the  moral  character  of  this  act ;  and  unless 
they  could  have  tracts  already  grown,  on  this  subject, 
hanging  on  the  bushes,  or  wrapped  up  in  the  cere 
ments  of  the  past,  they  would  have  no  right  to 
declare  or  discuss  the  Christian  principles  which  gov 
ern  this  subject !  When  the  American  Tract  Society 
issued  the  most  searching  and  fearless  tracts,  discuss 
ing  the  evils  of  intemperance,  they  transcended  their 
power,  and  abused  their  trust,  according  to  their  own 
attorney !  They  had  no  business  "  to  declare  the  prin 
ciples  of  its  managers  or  members  "  on  this  subject. 

When  any  great  evil  in  the  growing  light  of 
Christianity  is  lifted  up  by  the  providence  of  God, 
and  made  the  mark  at  which  the  Church  should 
address  its  moral  power,  the  Tract  Society  cannot, 
except  by  an  abuse  of  their  trust,  if  this  doctrine  be 
true  that  we  have  heard,  discuss  the  nature  of  the 
evil,  or  the  duties  of  Christian  men  respecting 


364:        DUTIES    OF   KELICIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

it,  nor  in  any  wise  touch,  it.  "  Tlieir  business,"  says 
Mr.  Lord,  "  is  not  to  discuss,  but  to  circulate."  And 
so,  instead  of  a  body  of  intelligent  Christian  men 
gathered  together  to  give  universality  to  the  truths 
of  the  Gospel,  we  have  but  a  vast  charitable  corpora 
tion,  collected  together  for  the  mere  mechanical 
purpose  of  circulation.  The  Society  is  to  know  no 
more  what  passes  through  it  than  a  fanning  machine, 
that  knows  neither  the  grain  which  it  saves  nor  the 
chaff  which  it  drives  away.  But  we  quote  again  : 

"  However  proper,  then,  a  treatise  might  be,  how 
ever  suitable,  if  it  could  be  circulated  to  do  good, 
yet  it  cannot  be  circulated,  it  cannot  be  printed  at 
the  expense  of  the  fund,  without  a  breach  of  trust. 
"What  would  be  said  of  printing  a  tract  in  a  language 
which  those  to  whom  it  was  to  be  sent  did  not  under 
stand  ?  And  yet  how  does  that  differ  from  printing 
tracts,  which  those  to  whom  they  are  addressed  will 
not  receive.  Tracts  on  slavery  might  be  able  in  their 
teaching ;  tracts  against  polygamy  the  like  ;  but  how 
idle  to  attempt  to  send  the  latter  to  the  Mormons,  or 
the  former  to  other  parts  of  the  country,  where  they 
would  be  excluded.  And  this  circumstance,  of 
whether  they  could  or  could  not  be  circulated,  must 
be  determined  as  a  preliminary  question  of  fact  by 
the  managers  of  the  Society." 

Let  every  honest  Christian  man  in  these  United 
States  consider  this  abominable  doctrine  that  the 
duty  of  a  Christian  Tract  Society,  in  circulating  the 
truth,  is  to  be  judged  and  limited  by  the  wishes  of 
corrupt  and  wicked  men.  If  wicked  men  are  willing 
to  receive  light  upon  their  wickedness,  the  Tract 


DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.       365 

Society  is  permitted  to  send  them  knowledge ;  but  if 
wicked  men  do  not  desire  that  light  should  shine  into 
their  darkness,  Mr.  Lord  declares,  that  without  a 
perversion  of  their  trust,  the  Tract  Society  cannot 
send  them  unwished-for  and  unwelcome  Christian 
truth.  He  declares,  most  explicitly,  that  the  preli 
minary  business  of  the  Tract  Society  is  to  ascertain 
whether  men  are  willing  to  receive  the  truth  of 
Christ,  and  that  if  they  are  not,  they  are  in  duty 
bound,  as  administrators  of  a  solemn  trust,  to  with 
hold  that  truth ! 

Was  this,  then,  the  doctrine  of  that  Christ  who 
came,  not  to  bring  peace,  but  the  sword  ?  "Was  this 
the  example  of  that  teaching  Saviour  who  confronted 
the  whole  priestly  rabble,  and  lawyer  crew,  that  then, 
as  now  again  in  our  day,  held  the  holiest  places,  that 
they  might  pervert  them  only  to  the  basest  uses  ? 
Was  this  the  example  of  those  apostolic  heroes,  who 
went  abroad,  followed  by  mobs  of  infuriated  men ;  by 
enraged  mechanics,  whose  business  was  interfered 
with  by  their  high  morality ;  pursued  and  thrust  at 
by  wandering  mountebanks,  whose  gains  they 
destroyed  by  restoring  their  victims  to  health  and 
sanity?  Was  this  the  spirit  that  breathed  through 
those  men,  who  in  every  age,  have  been  found 
worthy  of  the  name  of  Christ — teachers,  confessors, 
martyrs,  saintly  pastors,  and  unsubdued  preachers, 
who  have  borne  solemn  testimony  against  all  wicked 
ness,  and  brought  upon  themselves  endless  mischiefs, 
because  they  would  not  forbear,  and  because  they 
would  cast  upon  the  unwilling  face  of  darkness,  the 
whole  effulgence  of  the  light  of  God?  And  yet, 


366        DUTIES   OF   RELIGIOUS   PUBLISHING   SOCIETIES. 

Mr.  Lord  dared  to  say — and  there  was  not  one  priest 
upon  the  platform  that  chose  to  contradict  the  decla 
ration — that  tracts  on  slavery,  and  tracts  against 
polygamy,  and  the  like,  must  not  be  sent  to  those 
that  were  guilty  of  either  sin,  unless  it  was  known 
beforehand  that  these  sinners  were  willing  to  receive 
them ! 

And  this  is  what  the  Tract  Society,  with  all  their 
high-sounding  pretences,  with  all  their  paraded  piety, 
and  all  their  ostentatious  conscientiousness,  have  at 
last  led  the  Church  to  !  That  truth  of  Christ  which 
was  revealed  to  be,  not  the  suppliant  and  the  slave 
of  men's  caprices  and  appetites,  but  the  master  of 
their  conscience,  the  lord  of  their  faith,  the  supreme 
arbiter  of  their  lives — that  truth  which  is  God's  only 
vicegerent  upon  earth,  open-browed,  clear-eyed,  and 
with  a  tongue  that  speaks  in  every  language  the 
same  things,  and  with  divine  authority,  is,  by  this 
last  declaration  of  .the  American  Tract  Society, 
through  their  attorney,  to  ask  permission  of  the 
intemperate  before  it  declares  the  sins  of  intemper 
ance  ;  to  ask  the  consent  of  the  incontinent  before  it 
rebukes,  by  the  blaze  of  Gospel  chastity,  the  foul 
corruptions  of  licentiousness ;  to  ask  the  hard  hand 
before  it  preaches  the  duty  of  lenity  and  mercy  to  the 
weak ;  to  ask  the  Sabbath-breaker's  permission  before 
it  issues  tracts  on  the  sanctity  of  God's  day ;  to  ask 
the  gambling  and  the  racing  crew  whether  they  may 
print  tracts  against  the  special  immoralities  to  which 
they  are  liable  ;  to  ask  the  thief  whether  they  may 
circulate  tracts  upon  dishonesty  ;  the  robber,  whether 
they  may  set  forth  the  claims  of  justice;  for,  says 


DUTIES   OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.        367 

Mr.  -Lord,  "  Tracts  on  Slavery  might  be  very  able  in 
their  teaching,  tracts  against  polygamy  the  like,  but 
how  idle  to  attempt  to  send  the  latter  to  the  Mor 
mons,  or  the  former  to  other  parts  of  the  country 
where  they  would  be  excluded." 

But  this  is  not  all.  Let  us,  for  a  moment,  argue 
the  question  upon  Mr.  Lord's  own  ground.  We 
demand  to  know  by  what  right  it  is  said  that  tracts 
will  not  be  read  in  the  South  on  the  duties  of  master 
and  slaves  ?  How  has  it  been  ascertained  that  they 
will  not  be  welcome  ?  Have  these  men  taken  counsel 
of  political  firebrands  ?  Have  they  taken  counsel  of 
their  cowardice  ?  Have  they  taken  counsel  of  those 
men  who,  long  committed  against  the  agitation  of 
slavery,  are  now  ashamed  to  yield,  and  to  own,  by 
yielding,  that  their  whole  past  career  has  been  mis 
taken  ?  The  proper  method  of  ascertaining  whether 
tracts  would  be  read,  is  to  make  them,  to  offer  them ; 
and  when  judiciously  constructed  tracts  have  been 
tried,  with  all  kindness  and  perseverance,  and  are 
turned  back  upon  the  depository  of  the  Society,  then 
it  will  be  time  to  declare  that  they  have  been  re 
jected.  But  to  stand  upon  the  precipice  of  their 
cowardice ;  to  grow  dizzy  by  the  mere  looking  over 
into  the  abyss  below;  to  refuse  any  attempt  what 
ever,  practically  to  test  the  question — this  belongs 
to  those  peculiar  notions  of  Christian  enterprise 
which  are  characteristic  of  the  American  Tract  So 
ciety. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  declare  that  there  are  hun 
dreds  and  thousands,  and  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
men,  throughout  all  the  slave  States,  who  will  as- 


368        DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

suredly  receive,  with  gratitude,  suitable  tracts  upon 
this  subject,  and  read  them  with  conscientious 
earnestness  for  the  truth.  I  declare  my  conviction 
that  men  living  in  the  slave  States,  by  ten  thousands, 
hate  slavery  vastly  more  than  do  the  managers  of  the 
American  Tract  Society;  are  less  apologists  for  it; 
are  less  indifferent  to  its  wastes  and  its  woes ;  are 
more  in  sympathy  with  that  spirit  of  liberty  in  the 
New  Testament,  which  has  consumed  so  much  evil  in 
the  world,  and  is  destined  to  consume  every  vestige 
of  slavery  and  of  oppression.  There  are  thousands  of 
ministers  that  will  circulate  tracts  written  in  a  spirit 
of  Christian  love,  bearing  witness  against  the  selfish 
ness  and  the  wrong  of  those  that  defraud  the  laborer 
of  his  wages.  Nay,  there  are  thousands  of  men  who 
believe  that  slavery  is  a  divine  institution,  who 
yet  desire  to  have  the  duties  of  the  master  more 
thoroughly  explored  and  taught ;  who  earnestly 
desire  to  carry  themselves  toward  their  slaves  with 
some  degree  of  conscientiousness  and  Christian  fidel 
ity.  There  is  not  in  these  United  States,  there  is  not 
upon  this  continent,  there  is  not  on  the  broad  field  of 
the  world,  a  province  of  labor  more  inviting,  more 
urgent,  that  promises  a  more  abundant  remuneration, 
than  the  slave  States  of  America.  Nowhere  else  has 
the  conscience  lain  so  long  fallow ;  nowhere  else  are 
men  more  open  to  honest  truths,  spoken  in  a  manly 
way ;  nowhere  else  are  men  more  frank  in  recanting 
when  they  are  wrong ;  nowhere  else  more  fearless  in 
doing  that  which  they  see  to  be  right.  And  I  believe, 
in  my  soul,  that  if  instead  of  our  northern  doughfaces, 
the  management  of  this  American  Tract  Society  could 


DUTIES    OF    RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.        369 

be  put  into  the  hands  of  any  of  thousands  of  men 
who  might  be  selected  from  the  slaveholders  of  the 
South,  we  should  have  a  better  expression  from  them 
of  Christian  truth  on  the  subject  of  human  rights, 
than  now  we  are  able  to  obtain  from  these  men, 
whose  highest  conception  of  duty  seems  to  be,  to  do 
right  by  the  permission  of  evil,  to  scatter  light  under 
the  direction  of  darkness,  and  to  establish  righteous 
ness  by  the  consent  of  iniquity.  I  will  myself  stand 
pledged — if  any  word  of  mine  may  be  a  guaranty — 
that  if  the  American  Tract  Society  will  print  appro 
priate  tracts  upon  this  subject,  in  a  Christian  temper, 
and  with  Christian  fidelity  expressing  the  truth  of  God, 
I  will  circulate  twenty  million  pages  in  one  year. 
If  the  Society  will  take  the  offer,  I  will  take  the  job. 

Mr.  Lord  then  goes  on  to  describe  the  duties  of  the 
managers  of  this  property.  The  life  members  of  this 
Society,  together  with  the  life  directors,  at  an  annual 
meeting,  elect  the  President,  the  Vice- President,  the 
Secretaries  and  the  Directors.  Then  these  directors, 
together  with  the  life  directors,  elect  the  Executive 
Committee.  This  Executive  Committee  then  assumes 
all  the  authority  and  functions  of  the  Society.  The 
whole  force  of  the  Society  dies  when  they  have  put 
the  Executive  Committee  into  their  chairs.  In 
respect  to  this,  Mr.  Lord  says : 

"  How  idle,  then,  to  instruct  this  Committee  ? 
"What  right  have  the  members,  who  have  exerted 
their  power  of  management  by  the  election,  to  inter 
fere  with  this  veto  power?  But  the  attempt  to 
instruct  the  Committee  assumes  to  take  away  not  the 
veto  of  one,  but  the  discretion  of  all.  The  plan  of  the 

1C* 


370        DUTIES    OF    RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

charity  lias  not  in  it  such  an  inconsistency.  And  how 
impracticable  to  execute  such  a  construction  of  it. 
The  publication  and  circulation  of  tracts  must  depend 
on  occasions,  on  emergencies,  to  be  acted  upon  as 
they  rise.  It  has  been  wisely  committed  to  a  select, 
an  elected  body,  on  the  American  idea  of  a  represen 
tative  system;  not  on  the  rash,  reckless  and  often 
arbitrary  models  of  a  mere  democracy,  casually  col 
lected  and  swayed  by  impulse." 

True,  technically  there  may  be  no  right  in  the  Soci 
ety  to  instruct ;  but  the  American  Tract  Society  every 
year  brings  its  cause  into  all  the  churches  of  the  land, 
and  professes  to  act  in  sympathy  with  their  wishes. 
"When,  then,  at  the  annual  meeting,  the  Church,  by 
its  pastors  and  eminent  laymen,  come  into  their 
assemblies,  and  express  their  ideas  of  Christian  duty 
and  Christian  fidelity,  shall  their  mouths  be  stopped 
by  the  technical  plea  that  such  free  speech  is  an 
unwarrantable  attempt  to  instruct?  Are  we  to  add 
to  all  the  other  powers  of  this  Executive  Committee 
the  ascription  of  sufficient  wisdom  in  their  own 
selves  ?  Are  they  also  to  be  supposed  to  be  infallible 
in  judgment?  Has  Mr.  Lord  found  out,  likewise, 
among  the  other  memorable  things  which  he  has 
discovered,  that  the  Executive  Committee  are  not  to 
be  approached,  in  deliberative  popular  assemblies,  by 
advice,  by  suggestion,  by  persuasion,  by  reasoning,  by 
deliberative  wisdom  ?  When,  since  the  days  that  our 
colonies  sprang  up  on  these  shores,  has  it  ever  before 
been  known  that  a  great  religious  society,  dependent 
upon  the  churches  for  its  support,  should  sit  without 
rebuke  to  hear  the  practice  of  discussion  and  delibera- 


DUTIES    OF    KBLIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.        371 

tion  in  popular  bodies  decried  ?  And  yet,  the 
Managers  of  the  American  Tract  Society  permitted 
Mr.  Lord  to  characterize  our  American  religious 
assemblies  in  language  such  as  this : 

"  A  popular  meeting,  swayed  by  passionate  elo 
quence,  sympathizing  in  local  feelings,  would  be  a 
most  unsafe  depository  of  the  functions  in  question. 
It  is  also  likely  to  be  composed  most  extensively  of 
those  who  reside  nearest  to  the  place  of  meeting,  and 
the  course  of  the  charity  would  thus  be  made  depend 
ent,  in  a  degree,  on  the  place  of  meeting  ;  and  might 
vary  as  that  should  be  New  York,  or  Boston,  or 
Syracuse",  or  Rochester." 

And  afterward,  speaking  of  the  superiority  of  the 
judgment  of  this  Executive  Committee  over  the 
judgment  of  the  Society  that  was  assembled  in  the 
Academy  of  Music,  he  says  : 

"  This  trust  has  been  wisely  committed  to  a  select, 
an  elected  body,  on  the  American  idea  of  a  repre 
sentative  system ;  not  on  the  rash,  reckless  and  often 
arbitrary  models  of  mere  democracy,  casually  col 
lected  and  swayed  by  impulse." 

And  yet — and  no  man  knows  it  better  than  Mr. 
Lord — such  is  the  power  of  the  popular  will,  when 
that  will  is  based  upon  information,  upon  intelli 
gence,  and  upon  experience,  that  there  is  not  a  court 
of  justice  in  the  United  States,  that  can  long  main 
tain  an  opinion  adverse  to  that  which  has  been 
formed  by  the  great  court  of  the  million  outside  of 
itself.  The  majesty  of  the  decisions  of  the  people,  in 
all  questions  which  are  within  the  reach  of  their  dis 
cretion,  overawes  all  bodies  known  to  our  com- 


372       DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

munity.  The  United  States  Senate  would  not  pre 
sume  to  pursue,  for  a  year,  unless  under  the  merest 
party  influences,  a  course  of  legislation  against  which 
the  intelligent  people  in  every  State  should  rise  up  in 
their  popular  assemblies  and  protest.  There  is  not  a 
State  Legislature  in  all  this  Confederacy  that  would 
choose  or  dare  to  pursue  a  course  which  was  known 
to  be  against  the  deliberate  judgment  of  the  great 
majority  of  their  constituents.  There  is  not  a  body 
known  to  our  political  system  that  is  not  compelled  to 
hold,  and  that  practically  does  not  hold,  in  the  ut 
most  respect,  the  known  judgment  and  wishes  of  the 
masses  of  men  in  this  community.  It  is  reserved  for 
the  American  Tract  Society  to  stand  up  in  the  midst 
of  churches,  and  of  a  Christian  community  that  in 
immense  majorities  condemn  their  conduct,  and 
declare  themselves  superior  to  such  considerations — 
an  elected  body,  by  being  representative,  made 
superior  to  the  rash  democracy  of  popular  deliberate 
assemblies,  as  Mr.  Lord  is  pleased  to  style  them ! 

And  before  whom  were  these  disparaging  words 
uttered  ?  In  whose  presence  did  this  Executive  Com 
mittee  permit  Mr.  Lord  to  arrogate  their  superiority  ? 
Venerable  men  there  were,  that  were  venerable 
when  some  of  the  Committee  were  born.  Men  were 
there  in  scores,  whose  reading  and  habits  of  wise 
reflection  have  made  them  as  able  in  statesmanship 
as  they  have  been  learned  in  theology.  There  is  no 
better  school  on  earth  in  which  to  accumulate  wis 
dom  than  the  pastor's  office ;  and  from  out  of  discus 
sions;  from  studies  where  they  had  elaborated 
thought  in  the  calm  seclusion  of  studious  leisure,  from 


DUTIES   OF   RELIGIOUS   PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.      373 

the  field  where,  among  men  of  every  temperament 
and  of  every  habit  of  thought,  they  had  held  argu 
ment;  from  actual  contact  with  living,  glowing, 
sympathetic  life,  they  had  come  up  hither,  to  hear 
Mr.  Lord  declare,  that  the  Executive  Committee  was  a 
body  so  superior  that  they  were  not  to  be  instructed 
by  the  debates  and  the  discussions  of  such  an  assem 
bly  ae  that ! 

It  would  seem  bad  enough  for  the  American  Tract 
Society  to  refuse  to  proclaim  a  Gospel  of  liberty,  or  a 
Gospel  of  rights  to  four  million  of  men  on  this  conti 
nent  ;  but  to  attempt  to  justify  their  guilty  silence  by 
decrying  and  gagging  a  Christian  deliberative  assem 
bly,  by  undermining  the  foundations  of  free  speech, 
by  destroying  faith  in  the  wisdom  of  popular  deliber 
ative  bodies,  was  to  act  as  oppressors  always  act ;  for 
usurpation  never  fails  to  go  on  to  injustice.  Men 
whose  rights  have  been  taken  away  from  them,  are 
always  forbidden  to  complain.  The  Sceptre  and  the 
Gag  go  together,  the  world  over.  The  American 
Tract  Society,  after  contemptuously  refusing  to  exer 
cise  free  speech  in  behalf  of  the  oppressed,  next,  and 
characteristically,  muzzled  free  speech  and  free  dis 
cussion  of  their  own  conduct.  Every  man  knows 
tli at  there  was  never  a  more  ruthless  thing  done  in  a 
Christian  assembly  than  that  which  took  place  yes 
terday.  It  is  bad  enough  to  see  the  gross  and  wanton 
injustice  of  arrogant  men  that  manage  the  wires  of 
political  affairs ;  but  to  see  a  body  of  Christian  minis 
ters  and  laymen  bringing  into  their  service  the  sup 
ple  bands  of  lawyers,  springing  every  parliamentary 
trick  and  device  in  the  face  of  free  speech,  dodging 


374      DUTIES   OF   KELIGIOUS   PUBLISHING   SOCIETIES. 

issues,  and  hiding  their  own  moral  delinquencies,  by 
robbing  men  of  the  right  of  exposing  them — this  is 
one  of  the  worst  things  that  has  ever  happened  in 
the  long  annals  of  degradation  and  crime  brought 
upon  us  by  slavery.  In  a  religious  body,  among 
clergymen  from  all  parts  of  the  United  States ;  in  a 
popular  assembly,  and  by  men  reeking  with  devo 
tion,  and  fuming  with  prayers,  it  is  odious  and  dis 
gusting  beyond  all  reach  of  language. 

And,  now,  let  the  common  people  of  these  United 
States  understand  how  this  thing  stands.  According 
to  this  new  construction,  the  people  are  to  give  the 
money  ;  the  Executive  Committee  are  to  spend  it  as 
they  please;  and  the  people  are  not  at  liberty  to 
advise  them,  nor  utter  a  word  of  protest,  except  out 
of  doors.  You,  who  give  the  funds,  if  you  give  as 
much  as  twenty  dollars  a  year,  and  think  to  take  out 
a  certificate  of  life  membership ;  or,  giving  fifty  dol 
lars  a  year,  if  you  think  to  take  out  a  certificate  of 
life-directorship,  are  permitted  to  go  into  the  Court 
of  the  Gentiles  once  a  year,  not  to  influence  the 
direction  of  your  funds,  but  simply,  under  whip  and 
rein,  under  preconcerted  political  managements  with 
the  previous  question,  and  the  laying  of  the  question 
on  the  table,  cutting  off  all  debate  and  explanation, 
are  to  be  permitted  to  vote  for  directors  and  secre 
taries.  If  you  be  only  a  twenty-dollar  life  member, 
that  ends  your  function.  Like  an  insect  that  has 
laid  its  egg,  when  your  vote  is  dropped,  you  drop, 
too,  and  are  dead.  Then  the  directors  are  permitted 
one  additional  step  in  life.  They  vote  for  the  Execu 
tive  Committee,  and  after  that  they  die,  too,  and  are 


DITTIES    OF   EELiaiOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.      375 

to  be  heard  of  no  more,  until  the  time  comes  for 
butterflies  to  fly  again  the  next  year,  when,  breaking 
out  of  their  chrysalis  state,  once  more  they  may 
shake  the  wings  of  ballot,  and  but  once,  to  drop 
again  into  the  annual  slumber.  When  once  the 
Executive  Committee  are  elected,  you  are  at  their 
mercy.  You  are  not  to  say  a  single  word.  You  are 
not  to  advise  them.  You  are  not  recognized  as  being 
in  existence. 

I  should  delight  to  be  an  agent  collecting  money 
for  this  Society  for  a  short  period.  I  would  address 
the  farmers  with  the  usual  eloquence  of  those  who 
solicit  charity,  describing,  first,  the  unspeakable  wants 
of  the  ignorant  population  of  our  land ;  and  next,  the 
unspeakable  piety  of  the  members  of  the  Executive 
Committee  of  the  American  Tract  Society ;  and  next, 
of  that  mysterious  power  which  God  has  given  to  gold 
and  silver  to  bring  together  the  much-needed  piety  of 
the  one  extreme  to  the  much-needed  ignorance  of  the 
other.  "This  is  your  duty,"  I  should  say  to  the 
farmers,  who,  with  hard  toil  and  laborious  economy, 
have  been  endeavoring,  penny  by  penny,*to  put  their 
sons  through  the  academy  or  college,  that  they  may 
make  ministers  or  missionaries  of  them,  or  that  they 
may  become  honorable  civilians,  or  intelligent  labor 
ers  of  any  grade — "  It  is  your  duty  to  help  in  this 
glorious  cause  of  tract  distribution."  "But,"  says 
the  farmer  in  his  stupidity,  "what  will  become  of  my 
money  if  I  shall  give  it — what  will  be  done  with  it?" 
"Why,  it  is  going  into  the  Treasury  of  the  Lord." 
"But  what  treasurer  is  that  who  holds  the  Lord's 
bag?"  "  Why,  it  is  held  by  these  devout  and  sainted 


376       DUTIES   OF    RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

men  who  pray  all  day,  and  almost  all  night,  and  then 
deny  free  discussion  on  a  platform  for  the  purposes  of 
the  Lord."  "But  what  is  to  be  done  with  our  money? 
"What  do  they  mean  to  print?  What  do  they  mean 
to  circulate?"  My  friends,  I  should  be  obliged  to 
say,  "  You  are  meddling  with  matters  which  do  not 
concern  you.  It  is  your  business  to  give  the  money : 
it  is  our  business  to  spend  it.  If  you  wish  to  know 
how  it  is  spent,  in  due  time,  after  it  is  all  gone,  you 
shall  find  the  tracks  of  it  here  in  our  annual  report." 

Gentlemen,  this  American  Tract  Society  is  a  mul 
tiform  and  gigantic  mill.  It  has  its  run  of  stones. 
Some  are  appointed  for  wheat,  some  for  corn,  but 
more  for  cobs  ;  and  they  do  not  profess  to  consult  the 
will  of  those  that  approach  their  door  with  bags  of 
grain  :  they  simply  say  to  them,  "  This  is  what  we 
grind  in  this  mill ;  if  you  choose  to  put  your  wheat 
into  that  hopper  we  will  grind  wheat ;  your  corn  into 
that  hopper  we  will  grind  corn;  your  cobs  into 
yonder  hopper,  and  we  will  give  you  cob-meal ;  but 
we  do  not  profess  to  be  directed  any  further  by  the 
will  of  our  customers  than  we  choose.  Here  are  our 
arrangements  ;  take  them  if  you  please.  If  you  do 
not  like  them,  go  somewhere  else.  We  shall  grind 
just  as  we  have  arranged  to  grind.  We  will  put  in 
no  new  stones,  and  make  no  alterations  in  our  mill  to 
suit  the  notions  of  the  people  that  live  hereabouts." 

And  so,  the  American  Tract  Society  say,  "  Gentle 
men,  pour  your  pocket-grists  into  our  mill.  We  have 
arranged  how  this  shall  be  spent.  We  shall  make  no 
changes.  We  are  not  to  be  instructed.  We  are  not 
to  be  influenced  by  the  wild  democracy  of  popular 


DUTIES   OF  RELIGIOUS   PUBLISHING   SOCIETIES.     377 

deliberative  bodies  of  old  men.  It  is  our  business  to 
use  these  sacred  funds  ;  yours  only  to  give  us  a  chance 
to  use  them." 

And  so  I  imagine  that  country  gentlemen  who  had, 
with  very  great  pains  and  self-denial,  been  able  to 
give  twenty  and  fifty  dollars,  that  they  might  become 
life-members  and  life-directors  of  the  American  Tract 
Society,  approached  this  great  city  at  its  recent  anni 
versary,  and  were  present  in  the  Academy  of  Music. 
They  have  come,  as  they  fondly  supposed,  to  take 
some  part  in  the  administration  of  affairs.  "When 
they  go  to  the  door  of  the  Academy,  he  of  the  red 
ticket  is  put  on  one  side  of  the  house ;  and  he  of  the 
white  ticket  on  the  other  side ;  while  he  of  the  green 
ticket  is  mounted  up  to  the  place  of  privilege  upon 
the  operatic  stage.  The  business  proceeds.  Some 
thing  seems  continually  to  be  going  on  behind  the 
scenes.  There  is  whispering,  and  buzzing,  and  con 
sultation.  A  fore-arranged  result  is  to  be  dragged 
through  the  assembly.  One  thing  there  certainly  is 
not  to  be;  no  discussion  is  to  be  allowed;  no  free 
speech  is  to  take  any  part  in  this  meeting.  At  length, 
when  the  hour  has  passed,  our  country  member  and 
director  go  out,  and,  meeting  in  the  passage-way,  a 
little  puzzled  as  to  what  they  have  done,  one  looks  the 
other  in  the  face,  and  says — "  What  did  you  do  on 
your  side  of  the  house?"  And  the  other  replies, 
"  And  what  did  you  do  on  your  side?"  and  both  join 
in  saying,  "  What  have  they  done  on  their  side  ?" 

I  will  defy  anybody  on  earth  to  tell  what  has  been 
done,  except  that  two  men  have  been  duped,  and  a 
third  has  got  the  money.  And  all  this  misconduct 


378      DUTIES   OF   KELIGIOU6   PUBLISHING   SOCIETIES. 

takes  place  under  the  sweetest  names  of  religion 
and  devotion.  These  men  propose  no  mischief  with 
out  a  holy  sigh ;  they  violate  no  right  without  a  pious 
groan ;  they  never  decry  free  discussion  without  lift 
ing  up  their  eyes  to  heaven ;  they  wrest  from  us  no 
privileges,  except  with  the  clasping  and  holding  up 
devout  hands  in  the  act  of  prayer.  These  are  all 
good  men,  who  read  their  Bibles,  I  think,  until  some 
places  in  them  must  have  become  worn  out,  and  their 
contents  forgotten.  Surely,  men  must  be  very  pious 
who  can  endure  conduct  that  would  put  to  shame  a 
democratic  political  caucus. 

I  was  yesterday  urged  vehemently  to  mingle  in 
this  scene  and  to  speak.  But  I  loathed  and  scorned 
the  offer.  Is  it  for  a  man  like  me  to  play  in  such 
a  scene  as  that,  and  watch  the  sudden  opportunity  to 
jump  upon  the  stage,  there  to  be  shoved  or  put  down, 
as  might  suit  the  convenience  of  the  reverend  law 
yers,  tricksters,  or  what-not  ?  I  believe  in  free  speech, 
not  for  myself  alone,  but  never  half  so  sacredly  as  for 
him  against  whom  I  have  exercised  my  speech.  Free 
speech  does  not  mean  my  right  to  say  what  I  please, 
but  your  right  to  speak  back  again.  If  there  is  any 
thing  in  this  world  as  sacred  as  religion  itself,  it  is  the 
right  which  religion  gives  to  speak  of  religion,  to 
speak  of  its  principles,  to  apply  them  to  every  phase 
of  the  human  welfare ;  and  if  this  land  and  age  shalJ 
stand  by  and  behold  the .  destruction  of  these  most 
sacred  rights  on  the  very  platform  of  religious  benevo 
lence,  and  in  the  very  professed  service  of  religion  by 
religious  men,  then  we  have  reached  a  crisis  indeed — 
a  crisis,  not  of  external  force,  but  of  decay  of  inter 
nal  and  fundamental  principles  and  rights. 


DUTIES   OF   KEUGIOUS   PUBLISHING   SOdETIES.      £79 

But  these  men  have  mistaken  the  temper  of  the 
times,  and  spirit  of  the  common  people.  There  is  a 
public  sentiment  that  will  drown  out  even  the  Tract 
Society.  There  is  a  public  sentiment  which,  if  it  be 
slow,  is  slow  only  that  it  may  be  certain  and  effect 
ual.  Confidence  will  not  be  revoked  hastily.  It 
will  not  be  too  eagerly  concluded  that  men  once 
trusted  have  become  arrogant  in  office  and  corrupted 
by  power  and  seduced  by  the  blandishments  of  flat 
tery  and  success.  But  when  once  that  confidence  is 
withdrawn,  it  will  never  return.  If,  then,  there  is 
any  seeming  delay,  it  is  only  such  delay  as  belongs  to 
the  steps  of  majesty.  When  God  is  throned  in 
clouds,  and  armed  with  lightning,  and  approaches  to 
judgment  and  to  justice,  so  sure  in  his  heart  is  the 
day  of  retribution,  that  he  needs  not  to  make  haste. 
There  is  no  being  so  certain  as  God,  and  none  so 
slow  ;  for,  since  the  days  of  Moses  and  the  prophets, 
there  has  never  been  an  age  when  men,  feeling  the 
bitter  wants  of  the  world,  have  not  been  compelled, 
their  own  patience  worn  out,  to  cry,  "  How  long,  O 
Lord,  how  long!"  To-day  martyrs  cry,  to-day 
oppressed  and  suffering  patriots  from  out  of  dungeon 
vaults  do  cry ;  to-day  with  million  voices  not  sup 
pressed,  suffering  slaves  cry  out,  "  O  Lord,  how 
long !"  And  yet  He  dwells  in  eternity  and  in 
silence,  and  takes  to  himself  the  infinite  leisure  of 
eternity.  But  though  he  seems  to  delay,  he  never 
fails  to  come,  and  at  length  it  shall  be  said,  "  Our 
God  shall  come  and  shall  not  keep  silence."  And  I 
believe  that  God  will  yet  mark  with  the  most  con 
dign  punishment,  those  men  who,  under  the  name  of 


380      DUTIES   OF   RELIGIOUS   PUBLISHING   SOCIETIES. 

religion,  and  for  the  sake  of  screening  themselves 
from  responsibilities  toward  the  poor  and  the  op 
pressed,  have  violated  our  liberties  and  our  rights. 
I  do  not  say  that  these  men  are  not  Christians. 
Peter,  I  suppose,  was  a  Christian  when  he  denied 
his  Lord.  I  hope  these  men  are  Christians.  But  if 
that  is  Christianity  which  they  practise,  they  have 
another  New  Testament  than  mine. 

I  turn  now  to  another  branch  of  the  subject.  For 
the  last  hundred  years,  God  has  been  developing  in 
this  world  some  of  the  later  and  more  wonderful 
results  of  Christianity.  First,  Christianity  acts  as  a 
power  upon  the  individual ;  next,  upon  men 
in  their  social  relations — setting  up  the  family,  estab 
lishing  neighborhoods,  promoting  refinement  in  our 
households  and  in  communities.  Next,  it  takes  hold 
upon  laws  and  institutions,  then,  upon  customs,  and, 
finally,  upon  the  organic  forms  of  society  itself. 
And  in  the  mighty  conflicts  which  result  from  this 
strife  of  good  with  bad,  of  right  with  wrong,  of  love 
with  selfishness,  the  very  frame  of  life  is  often 
shaken,  and  society  itself,  broken  up,  passes  away, 
or  assumes  new  forms.  Beyond  even  this  there  is  a 
work  which  Christianity  is  developing.  Touched  by 
its  divine  spirit,  every  quality  springs  up,  in  each 
age  with  new  branches,  and  pushes  forth  blossoms, 
and  hangs  redolent  and  glowing  with  surprising 
fruits.  The  higher  developments  of  the  nobler  feel 
ings  begin  to  embody  themselves,  and  give  to  life 
not  only  new  ideas,  but  a  before  unimagined  and,  to 
the  natural  man,  inconceivable  grandeur  and  moral 
glory,  both  in  things  esthetic  and  in  things  ethic. 


DUTIES   OF   RELIGIOUS   PUBLISHING   SOCIETIES.     381 

Since  the  world  began,  it  has  been  the  doctrine  of 
proud  and  haughty  men,  that  the  weak  were  made  to 
serve  the  strong; — and  as,  among  lions  and  brute 
beasts,  the  fierce  and  the  strong  destroy  the  weak, 
and  the  race  is  propagated  only  from  the  more  stal 
wart  individuals,  so  this  belluine  morality  has  been 
adopted  and  practised  by  societies  of  men. 

The  weak  have  been  despised,  have  been  crushed, 
have  been  pushed  down  to  the  bottom,  have  been 
made  to  grind  in  dark  places,  to  work  for  that  which 
they  reaped  not,  to  sow  in  tears,  in  sorrow,  in  hopeless 
despondency,  that  the  indolent  and  the  wicked 
above  them  might  reap  that  which  they  requited 
not.  Nor  has  this  spirit  been  suffered  to  take  the 
spontaneous  form  which  pride  would  give  it.  It 
has  come  under  the  organizing  power  of  Philosophy, 
and  it  has  received  organic  forms,  until,  now,  selfish 
ness  has  become  legal  and  regular  national  and 
organic  wickedness,  based  upon  wrong;  and  so 
framed  into  a  law  and  into  systems  of  law,  that 
round  about  this  interior  Satanic  element  of  cruel 
selfishness  has  been  gathered  whatever  there  was 
venerable  in  authority,  whatever  there  was  impres 
sive  in  symbol,  whatever  there  was  beautiful  in  Art, 
whatever  there  was  attractive  to  the  eye,  to  the  ear, 
and  to  every  sense.  And  men,  weak  and  ignorant 
men !  have  been  taught  to  clasp  with  tendrils  of 
affection  and  veneration  systems  whose  very  marrow 
and  life  were  the  destruction  of  the  poor  for  the  sake 
of  the  rich,  the  oppression  of  the  weak  for  the  plea 
sure  of  the  strong. 

But  now,  at  length,  the  world  has  so  far  grown,  in 


382      DUTIES   OF   BELIGIOUS   PUBLISHING   SOCIETIES. 

God's  Providence  and  grace,  that,  emerging  from  in 
finite  confusions  and  turmoils  of  pride  and  selfishness, 
this  question  is  seeking  at  length  for  a  new  adjudica 
tion  at  the  bar  of  Christ's  heart.  For  more  than  a 
hundred  years  past  that  which  has  underlayed  all 
movements,  that  which  has  been  the  rudder  of  all 
progress,  that  which  has  been  the  animating  princi 
ple  of  all  reform,  has  been,  not,  what  are  the  rights 
of  the  strong,  of  the  wise,  of  the  rich,  of  the  powerful 
in  station  and  rank ;  but,  what  are  the  rights  of  the 
poor  and  the  weak,  and  what  are  the  duties  of  those 
that  are  strong  to  the  weak !  By  that  same  power 
which  causes  the  sun  to  send  summer  into  the  soil, 
and  wakes  from  their  rude  dirt  all  things  sweet  and 
beautiful,  wholesome  things  from  noxious,  clean 
things  from  fetid,  fair  and  beautiful  things  from 
waste  and  homeliness,  literature  has  been  taught  to 
bring  forth  new  fruits,  and  in  our  age,  instead  of 
that  derisive  spirit  which  characterized  the  litera 
ture  of  England  in  the  days  of  Pope  and  of  Sterne, 
of  Swift  and  of  Dryden,  there  is  breathed  into  it  and 
throughout  it  the  most  humane  and  yearning  spirit 
of  benevolence!  Even  kings,  not  knowing  what 
they  do  (as  ships  that  are  side  wise  swept  over  an 
unknown  current  do  not  know  that  they  are  drifting) 
have  been  obliged  to  declare  humane  sentiments 
and  to  conform,  in  their  policy,  to  this  divine  world- 
current.  Every  nation  of  the  globe,  to-day,  is  mov 
ing  in  directions  given  by  this  gulf  stream  of  God ! 
Never  before  on  so  broad  a  scale  was  Christian 
power  active  in  this  world.  Great  as  are  the  fruitp 


DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS   PUBLISHING   SOCIETIES.     383 

of  preaching,  noble  as  are  the  tasks  and  accomplish 
ments  of  self-denying  missionaries  among  the 
heathen,  sweet  and  beautiful  as  are  the  aspects  of 
Christian  life  in  pure  and  heavenly  families,  yet,  not 
in  any,  or  all  of  these,  is  Christ  so  manifestly  at  work 
as  in  these  great  world-heavings,  in  these  unrecog 
nized,  but  universally  felt  movements,  for  the  recon 
struction  of  society,  of  commerce,  of  civil  polity,  of 
human  life  itself,  upon  the  basis  of  humanity  and 
benevolence. 

What  shall  the  strong  do  with  the  weak  ?  This  is 
to-day  the  question  which  God  makes  Asia  to  answer. 
With  this  he  questions  Africa.  With  this  he  cate 
chizes  every  fractious  nation  of  Europe.  With  this 
question  he  is  shaking  America.  Nor  is  there  yet 
found  one  nation  on  the  earth,  though  their  Christi 
anity  has  dwelt  with  them  so  long  that  their  cathedrals 
are  hoary  with  age  and  their  altars  burnt  out  with 
perpetual  fires,  that  has  yet  learned  to  answer  this 
sublime  interrogatory  of  ages  ! 

The  duty  of  the  strong  to  the  weak  ?  Great  Britain 
says  that  the  duty  of  the  strong  to  the  weak  is  to 
compel  them  to  perform  remunerating  industries! 
Europe  declares  that  the  duty  of  the  strong  is  to 
make  the  iron  hand  of  power  yet  stronger,  and  to 
hold  in  more  absolute  subjection  the  now  pinched 
and  cramped  masses  of  the  people.  Africa,  low, 
brutal,  animal,  hears  the  question,  but  knows  not 
enough  even  to  comprehend  its  meaning ;  and  God 
speaks  to  that  benighted  continent,  as  a  child  might 
speak  to  the  ocean — calling  out  for  its  father,  its 


384:      DUTIES  OF  BELIGIOU8   PUBLISHING   SOCIETIES. 

mother,  or  its  companions;  and  only  the  ceaseless 
beating  of  the  surf  upon  the  shore,  wave  thundering 
after  wave,  is  its  answer ! 

All  the  world  over,  the  power  of  Christianity  has 
made  the  more  intelligent  stronger  and  continually 
stronger ;  but  as  yet,  it  has  left  the  others  relatively 
weaker  than  before.  The  top  of  society  has  gone 
up,  but  the  bottom  has  not  followed  it  in  any  due 
proportion. 

And  now,  hath  God  answered  this  question  ?  Hath 
he  declared  his  own  mind  ?  or  anywhere  recorded  those 
letters  which  are  never  to  be  effaced,  those  letters 
declarative  of  his  will  ?  When  God  gave  the  law  to 
antiquity,  he  wrote  it  upon  tables  of  stone,  amid  the 
august  terrors  of  Sinai's  top.  When  he  gave  to  the 
world  his  later  law,  he  wrote  upon  the  living  heart 
of  Christ  in  the  silent  majesty  of  Calvary !  And  in 
his  EXAMPLE  we  learn  our  duty. 

Was  it,  then,  to  build  himself  up,  that  the  Infinite 
descended  to  our  finite  condition  ?  Wandering  among 
ignorant  and  wicked  men,  was  it  for  his  own  glory 
that  Christ  groped  ?  Was  it  that  which  he  sought  in 
buffetings  and  mockery  of  a  trial,  in  the  fatal  hour  of 
condemnation,  in  the  slow  cross-burdened  walk  to 
Calvary,  in  the  hours  of  unutterable  anguish,  which 
not  even  the  sun  itself  could  behold  ?  Was  it  in  the 
silence  of  the  rock  sepulchre,  garden-loved,  that  he 
sought  the  elements  of  his  own  aggrandizement  ?  Or, 
was  it  rather  to  teach  us  by  the  whole  power  and 
majesty  of  his  example  that  he  that  would  be  chief 
must  ~be  servant  of  all  f  Was  it  not  to  teach  us  that, 
though  rich,  for  our  saJces  he  became  poor,  that  we, 


DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS    TUBLISIIING    SOCIETIES.      385 

through  his  poverty r,  might  become  rich  f  And, 
henceforth,  is  not  the  world's  doctrine  this  Gospel, 
that  Power,  Refinement,  Intelligence,  Wealth,  Sta 
tion,  must  hold  themselves  subject,  under  the  law  of 
love,  to  the  uses  of  all  that  are  unfortunate,  of  all  that 
are,  weak,  of  all  that  are  trodden  down  ?  The  sun 
hangs  in  glory  over  the  earth,  not  with  its  rays  to 
beat  down,  but,  by  all  the  power  of  its  attraction,  to 
draw  forth  from  out  of  the  homely  soil  and  dirt 
growth  of  infinite  things  of  beauty.  And  God  hangs 
above  all  things  to  draw  all  up  out  of  weakness  and 
wickedness  toward  him.  And  every  man  of  mankind 
is  to  take  his  superiority  as  a  level,  an  engine  by 
which  he  must  draw  all  lesser  men  up  to  or  toward 
his  condition.  There  is  but  one  Father  Universal ; 
there  is  but  one  Family  ;  there  is  but  one  Brother 
hood  ;  and  throughout  all  the  boundless  races  and 
infinite  numbers  of  men,  there  is  not  a  stranger,  an 
alien,  a  foreigner!  Ye  be  all  brethren  and  members 
one  of  another ! 

Is  not  this  one  of  the  many  mysteries  that  are  dis 
closing  themselves  from  the  sublime  act  of  Christ's 
incarnation  and  atonement  ?  If  on  earth  there  be  one 
thing  memorable,  which,  wanting  no  monument,  shall 
lift  up  its  undiminished  head  through  eternal  ages, 
itself  its  own  monument,  is  it  not  that  act  by  which 
the  God  of  glory  bowed  down  his  Almighty  head, 
and  slept  beneath  all  life  and  in  the  bosom  of  Death, 
that  he  might  destroy  the  one  and  give  eternal  power 
to  the  other  ?  No  angelic  head  radiant  with  reflected 
glory  was  that  which  pillowed  itself  upon  the  rock  ! 
The  moral  and  the  marvel  of  this  sacrifice  required 

17 


?S6       DUTIES    OF   KELICIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

that  men  should  know  that  the  Absolute,  the  Ever 
lasting,  the  Universal  Father,  lived  and  moved  by  a 
law  of  love,  which  made  him  willing  minister  and 
servant  of  the  weakest.  And  by  the  voice  of  his  own 
life,  by  the  voice  of  Calvary,  by  the  death,  and  by 
the  resurrection  of  his  son,  by  the  ever-living  care 
and  fostering  love  of  Christ  advanced  to  be  a  Prince 
and  Saviour  in  Heaven,  God  is  now  teaching  man 
kind,  unwilling  scholars  as  they  are,  that  the  duty 
of  the  strong  toward  the  weak  is  to  love  them,  to 
take  care  of  them,  to  educate  them,  to  strengthen 
them,  to  lift  them  up  with  the  might  of  their  strength 
to  the  very  height  of  their  own  privileges!  And 
BO,  men  shall  be  helped,  and  you,  helping  them, 
shall  be  thrice  blessed  yourselves;  for,  it  is  more 
"blessed  to  give  than  to  receive  !  and,  power  gone  out  of 
you  for  others  returns  to  you  again  from  their  hearts 
increased  a  thousand  fold ! 

Interpreted  from  this  sublime  example,  what  is  the 
morality  of  the  British  Empire,  whose  sway  in  India 
has  been  almost  purely  commercial,  and  which  has 
looked  at  men  almost  only  in  their  relation  to  the 
opium-gardens  and  the  indigo-fields  ?  Judged  in  the 
light  of  Christ's  precious  example,  what  monarchy  in 
Europe,  for  five  hundred  years,  is  not  condemned, 
and  what  regnant  policy,  or  statecraft,  what  blood- 
enriched  territory,  is  not  blackened  and  made  odious 
by  the  serene  teaching  of  Love  ? 

And  we,  of  America,  with  suffering  heart  and 
vailed  faces,  can  any  abhorrence  be  greater,  to  any 
Christian,  than  that  which  we  feel  when  we  behold 
the  latest  born  of  Time,  most  blessed,  best  taught, 


DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.      387 

richest  in  the  heritage  of  all  great  things  that  mar 
tyrs,  and  confessors,  and  dying  patriots  have  be 
queathed  to  the  world,  have  been  most  recreant, 
most  cruel,  most  haughty  to  the  poor,  most  despotic 
to  the  weak?  It  is  in  America  that  old  Roman 
slavery  flourishes  as  it  never  flourished  in  its  own 
native  soil.  The  Imperial  sceptre  was  milder  than 
the  Democratic  oppression!  But  God  has  not  left 
himself  without  a  witness,  nor  us  without  a  testimony 
that  he  means  to  save  us !  Beginning  far  back  in 
years,  he  has  pressed  unwelcome  truths  upon  this 
nation  with  growing  urgency  !  At  first,  this  truth 
of  Christian  humanity  was  born  among  us  with 
infant  face,  and  writh  the  weakness  of  a  babe.  It 
seemed  easy  to  overwhelm  it.  And  strong  men 
rushed  upon  it.  Herods  there  were,  in  every  church, 
in  every  sect,  in  every  State,  in  every  legislature,  in 
every  neighborhood,  up  and  out,  seeking  this  child 
Jesus  to  destroy  it !  But  all  of  these,  again,  slew 
without  slaying ;  and  he  grew  in  stature,  until,  now, 
Christ,  represented  in  his  poor  and  despised  ones,  is 
stronger  than  all  politics,  than  all  churches,  than  all 
commerce,  than  all  civil  affairs,  "  and  the  govern 
ment  shall  be  upon  his  shoulders  !" 

Near  fifty  years  have  passed  since  this  sublime 
movement.  In  that  time  ten  thousand  men,  repent 
ing  that  sooner  they  did  not  see  the  light  that 
dawned  over  where  the  young  child  lay,  have  borne 
noble  testimony  ;  and  the  living  words  of  God's  truth 
have  been  spoken  in  ten  thousand  pulpits;  books 
have  begun  to  march  in  long  procession;  news 
papers,  in  turn,  have  given  their  power  to  this  cause, 


388       DUTIES    OF    RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

until,   at  length,  popular   enthusiasm   inflamed,  the 
whole    community   has    risen   up,    and    is    bearing 
earnest  and  solemn  testimony  to  the  rights  of  the 
enslaved,  and  the  duties  of  Christian  men  and  patri 
ots  !     In  this  long  conflict,  that  Society,  which  was 
originated  by  holy  men,  for  just  such  solemn  work 
as  this ;  which  was  erected  to  be  a  platform   from 
which  the  artillery  of  the  Gospel  might  sweep  every 
evil ;    which  wras   organized  that,  by  the  power  of 
organization,  those  tougher    iniquities  which  defied 
individual   labor  might  find,  in  its  organic  power, 
more  than   a   match  ;  this  great,    this  mighty   asso 
ciation,  has  stood  to  be  traitorous  to  its  own   great 
trust,    to   admire    itself,    to   laud   its    own   fruitless 
piety,  and,  surveying  its  presses,  its  loaded,  groaning 
shelves,  and  its  pious  officers,  to  cry  out,  is  not  this 
Great  Babylon  which  I  have  built !     If  there  be  on 
earth,  at   this   day,  one   sight   more  melancholy  or 
more  shameful  than  another,  it  is   the  sight  of  an 
American   Christian  Association,  established  for  no 
other  end  than  the  propagation  of  Gospel  moralities, 
that,  for  half  a  century,  has  refused  to  bear  a  testi 
mony  in  behalf  of  four  million  men,  overrun,  and 
infested  with  every  immorality  which  oppression  can 
breed,  weighed  down  with  every  evil  which  it  is  the 
intent  of  the  Gospel  to  alleviate,  destroyed  by  every 
malignant   mischief    from   which   the    Gospel   was 
meant  to  be  a  salvation.     To  withhold  bread  from 
starving  cities,  medicine  from  dying  hospitals,  rescue 
from  wolf-imperilled  children,  would  be  nothing  com 
pared  with   that  stately  and   inhuman   phariseeism 
which,  for  twice  a  score  of  years,  has  beheld  without 


DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.      389 

one  pulsation  of  pity,  without  one  outr  caching  of  the 
hands,  without  one  utterance  of  the  voice,  this  great 
est  error  and  wickedness  known  in  our  land  and 
generation.  If  the  crime  itself  be  hideous,  the 
excuse  is  yet  more  nefarious.  The  Tract  Manage 
ment  have  refused  their  supreme  duty  under  the  plea 
of  preaching  the  Gospel !  Thus  telling  the  world 
that  there  is  a  Gospel  that  can  be  preached  devoid 
of  pity  for  the  poor,  empty  of  all  sympathy  for  the 
oppressed,  deaf  to  the  groans  of  slaves,  and  dumb  to 
all  the  petitions  of  the  degraded  and  neglected  !  It 
were  bad  enough  to  despise  God's  poor,  but  to 
excuse  it  by  a  plea  which  maligns  the  very  heart  of 
Christ,  and  slanders  the  spirit  of  his  Gospel,  is  a 
crime  yet  more  unpardonable ! 

It  is  a  pain  and  piercing  to  my  heart  that  the 
Church  of  Christ  has  not  been  found,  with  banner 
advanced,  far  beyond  all  other'  bodies,  leading  on 
the  world  to  a  victory.  I  can  never  forget  that  my 
father  and  my  mother  were  members  of  Christ's 
Church  upon  earth.  And,  even  if  Christ  himself 
had  not  sanctified  the  Church,  this  would  have  been 
enough  for  me,  that  my  father's  and  mother's  hearts 
had  made  it  sacred ! 

But  when  both  Father  in  heaven  and  father  on 
earth  have  left  their  memories  in  the  bosom  of  the 
Church,  she  must  receive  from  me  all  that  the 
yearning  heart,  the  deepest  sensibility,  and  the  most 
earnest  love  and  enthusiasm  can  bestow.  If  she 
might  only  be  true  to  her  trust,  what  matters  it  wrhat 
becomes  of  you  or  me  ?  If  the  name  of  Christ  and 
his  Church  mighf,  glow  with  the  renown  of  heroic 


390      DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

humanities  and  difficult  duties  faithfully  done,  let  us 
be  cast  aside,  as  old  and  shattered  armor,  or  as  the 
rind  of  golden  fruit,  peeled  off  that  some  longing  lip 
might  suck  the  pulp !  Willingly  would  I  lie  down 
by  the  wayside ;  willingly  would  I  have  my  hand  para 
lyzed  and  my  tongue  silenced  ;  willingly  would  I  sub 
mit  to  that  most  grievous  and  bitter  calamity  to  an 
active  man,  to  stand  uselessly  aside  and  see  the  world 
go  past  in  all  its  movements  of  enterprise  and  adven 
ture,  if  only  by  such  sacrifice  of  myself  I  might  behold 
achievement,  courage,  enterprise,  and  heroic  endea 
vor,  in  the  revered  Church  of  Christ !  How  long 
shall  her  ear  be  drowsy  ?  How  long  shall  she  sleep 
in  the  garden  where  Christ,  in  anguish,  sweats  drops 
of  blood  ?  When  will  she  wake,  if  not  to  save  her 
Master,  at  least  to  go  with  him  to  trial  and  to  disgrace, 
out  of  which  shall  come  victory  and  glory  ? 

What,  for  more  than  thirty  years,  has  been  the 
agitation  of  this  land?  What  has  been  that  deep 
undertone  sounding  up  through  all  the  clash  of  busi 
ness,  and  over-sounding  all  the  voices  of  politics,  and 
all  the  voices  of  the  pulpit  ?  It  has  not  been  the 
swell  of  the  ocean,  driven  of  storms  upon  our  coast ; 
it  has  not  been  the  sighing  of  the  wind  through  our 
western  forests — this  deep  thunder-toned  diapason, 
rolling  through  the  land,  has  been  the  sighing  of 
the  slave;  and  four  million  voices  have  lifted  up 
before  God  prayers  and  pleadings  which  have  shaken 
the  very  throne  of  mercy.  Throughout  all  this  time 
the  Church  heard  that  voice,  but  would  not  know 
that  it  wras  the  voice  of  God,  speaking  through  the 
afflictions  of  his  despised  ones.  But  he  hath  rolled  it 


DUTIES    OF    RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.      391 

more  and  more  audibly  upon  the  ear,  and  at  length 
all  the  land  lias  consented  to  listen,  and  to  under 
stand  its  meaning,  and  to  yield  to  its  petition. 

A  great  revolution  has  taken  place  in  the  opinions 
and  feelings  of  this  whole  nation.  In  my  own  day  a 
mighty  conflict  has  risen,  passed  on,  and  ended  vic 
toriously  for  the  right.  I  remember  the  days  of  early 
mobs.  I  remember  when  anti-slavery  sentiments 
were  spoken  but  in  wrhispers,  as  guilty  things.  I 
remember  when  to  be  known  as  an  Abolitionist  was 
to  be  disowned.  I  stood  to  see  Birney's  printing 
press  broken  to  pieces  at  Cincinnati,  and  dragged 
into  the  Ohio  River,  and  patrolled  the  streets  armed, 
under  public  requisition,  to  defend  the  dwellings  of 
the  poor  colored  population  against  the  ruthless 
threatenings  of  the  mob.  I  remember  when  the  pio 
neer  lecturers  in  the  antislavery  cause  were  driven  by 
unvitalized  eggs  from  place  to  place  throughout  the 
West.  I  remember  well  the  day  when  storehouses 
were  sacked,  and  dwellings  pillaged,  in  this  city  of 
New  York.  I  remember  when  a  venerable  man  and 
minister  escaped  with  his  life  from  his  own  house 
because  he  was  an  advocate  of  the  enslaved. 

Within  twenty  years  those  parties  which  were  the 
most  tyrannic  have  been  ground  out  of  existence. 
Those  churches  that  were  the  most  intolerant  of  free 
discussion  on  the  question  of  human  rights,  have 
been  overrun  by  this  providence  of  God,  in  favor  of 
freedom,  and  subdued  to  the  truth.  Synods,  which 
acted  as  dykes,  have  been  overwhelmed  and  sub 
merged  by  the  rising  flood.  General  Assemblies, 
like  ships  leaking  on  the  sea,  with  all  their  pumps 


392       DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

and  every  device  of  caulking,  Lave  but  just  kept 
themselves  dry,  and  have  been  driven  hither  and 
thither  by  this  omnipotent  flood.  Those  opinions 
which  twenty  years  ago  would  have  shut  up  every 
avenue  of  political  honor  in  the  North,  are  now  found 
indispensable  to  the  first  step  of  advancement  in 
political  life.  The  wheel  has  turned  around.  The 
top  is  the  bottom,  and  the  bottom  has  gone  up  to  the 
top.  A  moral  revolution  has  taken  place  upon  half  a 
continent,  and  a  decree  has  gone  forth  judging  the 
wickedness  of  slavery,  and  establishing  the  righteous 
ness  of  liberty. 

During  this  whole  struggle,  the  American  Tract 
Society,  wrhich  was  organized  to  speak  God's  truth  to 
man,  has  stood  and  beheld  the  whole  conflict  without- 
opening  its  lips,  or  uttering  one  single  word. 
Churches  that  were  unfaithful  have  been  brought 
into  line;  States  that  were  recreant  have  become 
faithful;  neighborhoods  that  were  false  to  liberty 
have  been  converted  to  the  truth ;  institutions  that 
scowled,  and  repulsed  her  claims,  have  long  since 
embraced  the  cause ;  but  the  American  Tract  Society, 
with  fatal  consistency,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end, 
has  stood  dumb.  Its  silence  has  testified  that  in 
its  judgment  there  was  nothing  in  the  Gospel 
which  it  was  its  duty  to  speak  in  behalf  of  the 
oppressed.  In  all  the  Word  of  God  there  was  no  les 
son  of  liberty  of  sufficient  importance  for  it  to  pub 
lish.  In  that  work  which  Christ  was  doing  in  our 
own  age,  it  would  have  no  part  nor  lot.  Going  back 
to  the  sepulchre,  it  buried  itself  in  the  past,  and 
refused  to  follow  the  Saviour  in  all  his  new  works  of 


DUTIES    OF   KELTGIOUS    PUBLISHING   SOCIETIES.      393 

love  which  he  was  performing  in  our  midst.  The 
Gospel  which  it  has  preached  has  been  a  historic 
Gospel.  But  the  living  work  of  God,  and  the  might 
iest  work  of  our  time,  it  has  ignored,  despised, 
rejected ;  and  I  charge  upon  this  Society  the  guilt  of 
rejecting  Christ.  It  has  refused  to  bear  his  Cross,  to 
suffer  with  him,  to  be  pierced  with  his  thorns,  or  to 
tread  in  his  footsteps.  If  in  the  day  of  judgment  it 
shall  be  counted  a  sin  to  have  spoken  for  the  en 
slaved,  with  any  potency  of  voice,  no  condemnation 
against  the  Tract  Society  will  be  issued,  whatever 
may  befall  you  or  me.  They  have  never  thus 
sinned. 

Had  this  Society  been  established  for  the  publica 
tion  of  some  special  class  of  works,  and  had  they  then 
refused  to  publish  works  that  did  not  belong  to  their 
specialty,  they  had  been  right.  In  England  there  is 
a  Shaksperian  Society,  whose  business  it  is  to  publish 
only  of  Shakspeare.  There  is  a  Camden  Society, 
with  their  historic  specialty.  There  is  a  Hansard 
Knollis  Society,  with  their  select  list.  And  if  the 
American  Tract  Society  had  been  a  denominational, 
doctrinal  society,  or  an  ecclesiological  society,  or  any 
departmental  publishing  association,  we  should  not 
have  blamed  her  that  she  refused  any  extrinsic  work ; 
but  she  was  organized  by  Christian  men,  to  declare 
the  whole  counsel  of  God  on  the  subject  of  public 
morals,  to  this  nation.  She  was  organized  to  give  a 
Christian  literature,  based  upon  Christian  morals  and 
Christian  truth,  to  this  nation  and  to  our  times. 

Under  such  circumstances,  a  deliberate  and  con 
tinual  refusal  to  utter  the  truth  of  the  Bible  upon  the 

It* 


394:      DUTIES    OF  KELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

subject  of  human  rights,  when  millions  were  clamor 
ing  for  knowledge  upon  this  subject,  and  when  God, 
by  his  providence,  was  turning  all  good  men's 
thoughts  to  these  things,  can  be  interpreted  in  no 
other  way  than  as  a  mighty  infidelity  to  the  truth 
committed  to  their  hands. 

And  this  mighty  neglect  has  been  made  more  re 
markable  and  shameful  by  the  particularity  with  which 
it  has  reprehended  and  hunted  petty  misdemeanors 
and  minute  transgressions.  Upon  ordinary  stealing, 
it  has  never  feared  to  declare  the  whole  counsel  of 
God ;  but  the  stealing  of  men,  women  and  children, 
has  never  yet  been  counted  by  it  a  crime  worthy  of 
reprehension.  To  steal  a  tiling  has  roused  their  holy 
anger,  but  to  steal  a  person  leaves  them  quite  com 
placent.  The  violation  of  religious  days ;  the  dis 
regard  of  conventional  religious  usage ;  random 
irreverence  or  profanity, — these  have  afforded  them 
targets  for  all  their  artillery  ;  but  the  violation  of  the 
most  sacred  rights,  social,  civil,  religious  and  domes 
tic,  of  four  millions  of  men,  has  called  forth  from 
them  not  one  single  word.  This  great  overgrown 
Society,  with  a  hundred  presses,  goes  out  to  seek  the 
man  that  chews  tobacco,  and  runs  him  down,  with 
all  its  authority,  for  the  wickedness  of  this  indulg 
ence ;  but  the  polygamy  of  the* slave  plantation; 
the  customary  adulteries  of  slave  relations  ;  the  break 
ing  of  hearts  in  the  separation  of  families ;  the 
unbounded  concubinage  of  master  and  female  slaves  ; 
the  separations  of  children;  the  ruthless  sales  of 
human  beings,  coupled  and  catalogued  with  brute 
animals, — upon  all  these  things  it  has  looked  ;  and 


DUTIES    OF    RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.      395 

though  urged,  and  besought,  and  pleaded  with,  to 
this  hour  it  has  steadily  refused  to  open  its  mouth  or 
to  say  one  word.  And  yet,  it  pretends  to  be  a  Soci 
ety  for  the  publication  of  Christian  truth  and  Christ 
ian  doctrine ! 

Do  young  men  and  maidens,  after  the  long  day's 
toils,  see  fit  to  gather  together,  and  dance  out  the 
hours  of  night  ?  The  American  Tract  Society  instantly 
arrays  against  them  the  moral  influence  of 'the  Gospel. 
Does  some  slave-trader,  within  sound  of  the  na 
tional  Capitol,  gather  together  a  band  of  hundreds 
of  slave  men,  and  slave  women,  and  slave  children, 
and  begin  that  infernal  coffle-dance  between  the 
slave-pen  and  the  burning  plantation  ?  Against  this 
not  one  word  can  it  find  it  its  duty  to  speak  from  out 
of  God's  truth.  If  ever,  in  our  day,  there  was  a  case 
which  called  again  for  Christ  to  speak  and  denounce 
the  miserable  hypocrisy  of  men  that  tithed  mint,  anise 
and  cumin,  but  neglected  the  weightier  matters  of 
the  law — judgment,  justice  and  mercy — this  is  the 
one. 

And  what  is  that  Gospel  which  they  have 
preached?  Suppose  that  all  our  Bibles  were  des 
troyed,  and  we  were  again  to  reconstruct  the 
teachings  of  God's  "Word  from  the  publications  of 
the  American  Tract  Society,  what  Gospel  could  we 
rear  out  of  them  ?  It  would  be  a  Gospel  from  which 
would  be  left  out  that  sublime  enunciating  sermon 
of  Christ — uThe  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon  me, 
because  he  hath  anointed  me  to  preach  the  Gospel  to 
the  poor ;  he  hath  sent  me  to  heal  the  broken-hearted, 
to  preach  deliverance  to  the  captives,  and  recovering 


396       DUTIES    OF    RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIKTi:  8. 

of  sight  to  the  blind,  to  set  at  liberty  them  that  are 
bruised,  to  preach  the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord." 
We  could  find  in  it  no  humanity  for  the  oppressed  ; 
no  sympathy  for  yearning,  sorrowing  slave-mothers  ; 
no  Golden  Rule  for  slave  masters ;  no  doctrine  upon 
national  justice.  Through  the  Bible  which  the 
American  Tract  Society  have  given  this  world,  des 
potism  might  drive  its  chariot  without  a  block  or 
hindrance.  Along  that  Gospel  road  which  the  Ame 
rican  Tract  Society  have  thrown  up,  the  most  foul  and 
flagrant  sins  that  are  ever  committed  by  oppression 
might  walk  unchallenged  by  any  sentinel,  unarrested 
by  any  officer.  In  so  far  as  that  Gospel  is  concerned, 
which  the  American  Tract  Society  has  spread  before 
this  nation,  John  NeAvtoii  might  again  open  the  slave 
trade,  unrebuked,  upon  the  coast  of  Africa.  Fleets 
might  land  uncounted  armies  of  slaves,  and  vast 
auctions,  sundering  every  natural  tie,  disperse  them 
all  over  the  continent,  and  lecherous  power  and  rank 
brutality  might  domineer  over  the  weak  and  helpless, 
and  all  forms  of  dishonesty  rising  from  the  petty 
proportion  of  civil  stealing  into  tyrannic  robberies, 
and  despotic  usurpations  of  every  human  right  and 
liberty,  and  yet  without  one  word  of  warning,  one 
word  of  rebuke,  one  word  of  judgment,  from  that 
Gospel  which  the  American  Tract  Society  has  given 
to  this  nation  ! 

And  all  this  vast  and  wanton  neglect  is  justified  by 
the  plea  that  they  are  ordained  not  to  meddle  in 
controversies,  and  to  take  sides  with  parties,  but  to 
preach  the  Gospel.  Is  this  Gospel  a  thing  that  can 
be  preached  while  every  human  interest  is  neglected 


DUTIES   OF  RELIGIOUS   PUBLISH] 

or  disowned  ?  Is  that  Christ's  Gospel 
meddle  with  living  interests  ?  Is  the  Gospel  a  bundle 
of  abstract  truths,  a  bouquet  of  sentimentalities,  an 
airy  realm  of  sweet  imaginations  and  heavenly 
visions  ?  Is  there  a  Gospel  of  Christ  that  can  be 
preached  consistently  with  the  neglect  of  every  want 
in  life  ?  Is  there,  then,  in  this  world,  a  Gospel  of 
Christ  which  is  nothing  for  four  million  imbruted 
slaves  that  cry  day  and  night  before  God  ?  It  were 
bad  enough  to  maintain  such  wanton  neglect  and 
inhumanity  toward  the  poor ;  but  to  justify  it  by  a 
plea  which  destroys  the  charter  of  our  religion,  and 
belies  the  very  genius  of  the  Gospel,  is  a  wickedness 
which  combines  in  it  all  the  most  malignant  traits  of 
infidelity.  And  whatever  may  be  true  of  the  private 
lives  and  dispositions  of  the  individuals  who  compose 
the  Management  of  this  Tract  Society,  there  can  be 
110  doubt  that  they  have  made  the  Tract  Society  an 
engine  of  infidelity.  They  have  denied  Christ ;  they 
have  crucified  him  again  in  his  poor ;  they  have  shut 
up  their  hearts  against  those  things  which  were 
dearest  to  the  soul  of  the  Saviour ;  they  have 
propagated  the  letter,  and  sacrificed  the  spirit  of 
Christianity.  And  no  defection  of  doctrine,  and  no 
mistaken  theories  of  piety,  and  no  enthusiasms  of 
moral  sentiment,  and  110  malignancies  of  fanaticism, 
can,  in  the  end,  be  worse  than  that  fatal  dogma  which 
the  American  Tract  Society  practically  teach — that 
there  is  a  Gospel  of  doctrine  which  may  be  separated 
from  duty ;  that  there  is  a  piety  'without  morality ; 
that  there  is  a  religious  sentimentality  disconnected 
from  religious  ethics ;  that  devotion  may  be  separated 


398       DUTIES    OF    KELIGIOU6    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

from  humanity ;  and  that  God  will  accept  prayers, 
and  readings,  and  preachings,  and  singings,  and  self- 
denials,  in  place  of  mercy,  and  charity,  and  helpful 
ness  to  the  poor,  and  release  to  those  in  bondage. 

If  I  were  called  upon  to  state  who  most  promote 
infidelity,  do  you  think  that  I  should  say  it  was  such 
as  Theodore  Parker  ?  He  is  open  and  above-board. 
"We  know  his  whole  theory  and  philosophy.  Mis 
taken  as  he  is,  he  is  not  the  most  dangerous  man.  Do 
you  think,  then,  that  it  is  Garrison  and  Phillips — him 
of  the  iron  tongue,  and  him  of  the  golden  lips  ?  No, 
not  them.  Earnest,  unswerving,  faithful  to  their 
convictions,  they  represent  the  fanaticism  of  that 
part  of  the  Gospel  which  the  Tract  Society  has 
abandoned  and  rejected.  Then  it  must  be  those 
infamous  peddlers  of  infidel  books,  that  are  danger 
ous.  J  should  just  as  soon  think  of  calling  men  dan 
gerous  wrho  peddle  cockroaches,  and  rats  and  vermin. 
The  men  who  seek  such  books  are  spoiled  already. 
I  will  tell  you  who  are  the  dangerous  infidels.  Now, 
as  in  the  days  of  Christ,  the  men  who  hide  worldly 
hearts  behind  spiritual  sentiments ;  the  men  that 
substitute  devotion  for  humanity;  the  men  who 
insist  upon  sacrifices  in  place  of  mercy  and  justice ; 
the  men  who  have  a  text  for  every  sin  of  omission 
and  commission,  and  holy  precedents  for  every 
devout  neglect ;  who  make  long  prayers  while  devour 
ing  widows'  houses  ;  who  lift  up  holy  eyes  whenever 
they  are  about  to  do  a  wicked  thing  ;  who  pursue  a 
smooth  selfishness ;  and  who  build  themselves  places 
of  power,  and  fortify  their  influence  by  all  the  words 
and  phrases  of  duty  and  devotedness ;  these  are  the 


DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.      399 

infidel  men  who  take  the  garments  of  Christ  to  do 
the  work  of  the  devil  in.  These  men  who  profess  to 
do  the  work  of  righteousness  while  they  impede  the 
work  of  true  religion  by  their  shams,  stand,  in  our 
day,  where  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  stood  in  Christ's 
day. 

Jerusalem  lives  its  life  over  again  in  New  York. 
The  Temple  stands  again  in  Nassau  street,  and 
the  priests  and  the  lawyers  may  be  found  there  at 
the  same  arts  which  priest  and  lawyer  practised  in 
the  Temple  of  old.  Laws  and  institutions  grow  old 
and  perish,  but  the  human  heart,  never;  and  the 
hypocrisies  of  inhuman  religious  men  in  the  days  of 
Christ,  which  brought  down  his  divinest  indignation, 
reappear  again  in  every  age.  As  spiders  spin 
their  cobwebs  in  kings'  palaces,  so,  in  the  holiest 
places,  hypocrisy  weaves  its  web,  and  lurks  for  its 
victims. 

The  heresies  which  Christ  feared  were  not  of  the 
head,  but  of  the  heart — the  heresy  of  selfishness ;  the 
heresy  of  religious  pride ;  the  haughty  indifference  of 
those  that  were  in  prosperity  to  those  that  were  in 
trouble  and  adversity ;  the  neglect  of  the  poor,  the 
ignorant,  the  vicious,  the  criminal.  It  was  not  in  the 
Temple  that  his  steps  were  most  found,  nor  his  voice 
oftenest  heard.  The  religious  class  he  made  his  ene 
mies,  because  it  was  against  the  religious  class  that  he 
levelled  his  most  terrible  denunciations.  There  may 
be  such  a  thing  as  religious  aristocracy,  and  contempt 
uous  religious  refinement.  Devotion  has  its  selfishness, 
worship  may  become  a  luxury.  And  in  the  day  of 
Christ,  the  arrogance  of  the  priest,  the  subtle  cunning 


400       DUTIES    OF    RELIGIOUS   PUBLISHING-   SOCIETIES. 

of  the  lawyer,  and  the  conceited  spirituality  of  the 
devout,  brought  down  the  most  terrible  denunciations 
from  the  divine  lips.  And  Christ  taught  then  a  les 
son  just  as  much  needed  now,  that  all  religion  is  void 
and  worthless  which  leaves  the  ignorant  untaught, 
the  wronged  unredressed,  the  poor  unsuccored,  the 
imprisoned  unvisited,  and  the  captive  unreleased. 
And  in  the  days  of  Christ,  by  Christ's  own  hands,  the 
whole  weight  of  the  Gospel  was  pivoted  upon  human 
ity  in  man  to  man. 

One  cannot  look  upon  this  ostentatious  particularity 
about  minor  morals  in  the  Tract  Society,  and  this 
persistent  neglect  of  great  humanities,  without  re 
pugnance.  Imagine  an  army  upon  our  frontiers, 
charged  with  the  defence  of  the  people.  All  around 
the  rude  huts  of  the  pioneers  primeval  forests  stand 
unbroken.  In  their  shadows  and  twilights  lurk  count 
less  bands  of  savage  enemies.  Their  flocks  and  their 
herds  are  imperilled  by  wolves  and  bears.  Venomous 
serpents  yet  infest  the  region.  Upon  some  alarm,  the 
settlers  crowd  the  fort,  beseeching  protection.  The 
savage  foe  are  upon  them.  Their  houses  are  burned ; 
their  crops  are  destroyed  ;  wolves  suck  the  blood  of 
their  herds  with  impunity  ;  but  no  soldier  can  be  had. 
Armed  with  combs,  and  searching  the  heads  of  child 
ren,  they  reply,  "  We  cannot  leave  these  important 
matters  to  look  after  Indians." 

Four  millions  of  men  cry  out  that  the  foot  of  the 
oppressor  is  upon  them.  Four  millions  of  men  say, 
"  We  do  not  own  our  wives,  nor  our  little  ones.  We 
are  living  in  adultery.  "We  cannot  go  where  we  will. 
Our  bodies  are  not  our  own  ;  our  time  is  not  our  own. 


DUTIES    OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.      401 

Every  right  is  snatched  from  us.  Brethren,  come 
forth  and  help  us."  But  the  Tract  Society,  lifting  its 
devout  head  from  its  domesticity,  plies  its  fine-tooth- 
comb  philanthropy  upon  quids  of  tobacco ;  upon 
sins  of  dancing ;  upon  the  transient  peccadilloes  of 
morality. 

Had  the  Executive  Committee  of  the  American 
Tract  Society  stood  in  the  place  of  the  twelve  Apos 
tles  in  the  primitive  days  of  the  Church,  the  world 
would  have  never  had  a  Gospel.  Not  one  man  of 
them  would  have  dared  to  preach  in  Jerusalem ; 
not  one  man  of  them  would  have  taken  the  buifet  of 
an  angry  world.  Some  lawyer  would  have  been 
found  easily  satisfying  them  that  to  preach  a  thing 
which  men  did  not  want  to  hear  was  throwing  away 
their  labor.  Some  Daniel  Lord  would  have  risen  up 
in  their  midst,  and  declared  that  they  had  as  well 
speak  in  a  foreign  tongue  as  preach  tilings  which  the 
people  did  not  wish  to  hear.  No  Peter  would  have 
brought  on  Pentecost  in  Jerusalem.  ]STo  Paul  w^ould 
have  risen  up,  and  traversed  the  globe  with  a  fidelity 
which  arrayed  against  him  the  wealth,  the  refine 
ment,  the  religion,  and  the  learning  of  the  selfish 
world. 

Think  you  that  the  holy  Apostles  asked  leave  of 
men  to  speak?  Did  these  sons  of  thunder  go  to  their 
mission  chiefly  careful  how  to  save  their  own  reputa- 
tions  ?  But  had  it  been  these  gentlemen  of  the  Tract 
Society,  we  should  have  had  a  new  rendering  of  the 
campaign.  The  Executive  Committee  would  never 
have  preached  Christianity  in  old  raging  Jerusalem. 
Christ  would  never  have  lost  his  life  if  he  had  pur- 


402      DUTIES    OF    RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES. 

sued  the  prudent  policy  of  this  influence-loving' 
Tract  Society.  The  apostles  would  have  grown  grey 
in  Jerusalem  if  they  could  have  been  permitted  to 
preach  only  what  men  wished  to  hear.  They  were 
persecuted  for  outspoken  fidelity.  Christ's  last  and 
worst  offence,  and  that  which  was  the  proximate 
cause  of  his  death,  was  his  unsparing  and  terrible 
rebuke  of  that  religion  which  made  Devotion  a  sub 
stitute  for  Humanity.  The  Pharisees  were  so  anxious 
for  the  Church  and  its  institutions,  that  they  sacrificed 
the  very  qualities  for  which  a  church  is  instituted. 
And  the  Tract  Society  are  now  on  the  very  moral 
ground  occupied  by  the  old  Pharisees.  It  is  for  the 
sake  of  saving  an  institution  formed  only  for  the 
spread  of  Truth  they  are  sacrificing  that  very  Truth. 
For  the  sake  of  keeping  unharmed  an  Institution  of 
Benevolence,  they  are  refusing  the  most  sacred  duties 
of  Benevolence.  Moral  qualities  have  become  less 
valued  than  the  machinery  by  which  these  qualities 
were  to  be  propagated !  Under  the  plea  of  preaching 
Christ,  they  are  refusing  the  very  deeds  which  led 
Christ  to  his  victorious  death.  For  the  sake  of  send 
ing  the  Gospel  all  over  the  land,  they  have  emptied 
themselves  of  that  very  courage — of  that  divine  fidel 
ity — of  that  tender  consideration  for  the  helpless, 
which  made  the  Gospel  what  it  is.  In  the  Apostles' 
hands  there  was  a  Gospel  of  Courage.  In  the  Tract 
Society's  hands  it  is  a  Gospel  of  Cowardice.  The  Tract 
Society  means  to  save  its  life,  and  so  loses  it.  The 
Apostles  were  willing  to  lose  their  lives  daily,  and  so 
saved  them.  It  is  not  what  influence  men  keep  that 
makes  them  strong,  but  what  they  give  up  for  Christ's 


DUTIES   OF   RELIGIOUS    PUBLISHING    SOCIETIES.      403 

sake.  From  the  Cross  and  the  Sepulchre  Christ 
began  to  reign.  Before,  he  was  a  man  of  sorrow — 
afterward,  a  Prince  and  Saviour !  The  Apostles 
gloried  in  persecution.  Suffering  was  a  badge  of 
Fidelity.  They  carried  the  Gospel  into  the  world  as 
a  torch  is  carried  into  a  cave,  bringing  down  around 
them  every  creature  that  could  not  bear  the  light. 
That  Gospel  is  now  a  dark  lantern,  and  the  Tract 
Society  carry  it  into  the  vast  cavern  of  slavery  with 
such  care  not  to  open  it,  that  every  bird  of  darkness 
sleeps  on,  undisturbed.  Their  Gospel  is  a  torch  re 
versed  !  Had  these  tract  men  been  the  Apostles,  we 
should  now  be  Gentiles,  and  the  whole  earth  hea 
thens. 


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"  Hia  curious  reading  and  research,  the  shrewd  observation,  fancies,  and  conceptions 
of  his  whole  life,  were  poured  into  these  monthly  essays  (Elia)  with  many  scenes  drawn 
from  his  past  career — its  mirthful  and  mournful  experiences.  In  some  of  the  essays, 
topics  of  humble  and  domestic  life  are  set  off  with  lively  illustrations,  fine  satire,  or 
graceful  description ;  others  are  devoted  to  criticism,  and  remarks  are  thrown  out  at 
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ment  of  literature  had  appeared  since  the  days  of  Steele  and  Addison." — Encyclopaedia, 
Britanmca. 

"  All  these  essays  (Elia)  are  carefully  elaborated,  yet  never  were  works  written  in  a 
higher  defiance  to  the  conventional  pomp  of  style.  A  sly  hit,  a  happy  pun,  a  humorous 
combination  lets  the  lights  into  the  intricacies  of  the  subject,  and  supplies  the  place  of 
ponderous  sentences.  Seeking  his  material  for  the  most  part  in  the  common  paths  of 
life— often  in  the  humblest— he  gives  an  importance  to  everything,  and  sheds  a  grace 
over  all." — Sergeant  Talfourd. 

"As  an  essayist,  he  is  entitled  to  a  place  beside  Rabelais,  Montaigne,  Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  Steele  and  Addison.  *  *  *  *  He  has  refined  wit,  exquisite  humor,  a 
genuine  and  cordial  vein  of  pleasantry,  and  heart-touching  pathos." — Cleveland' »  Eng 
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"  As  a  descriptive  writer,  in  his  best  passages  he  ranks  with  Burke  and  Rousseau  in 
delineation  of  sentiment,  and  in  a  rich  rhetorical  vein  he  has  whole  pages  worthy  of 
Taylor  or  Lord  Bacon.  There  is  nothing  in  Macaulay  for  profound  gorgeous  declama 
tion  superior  to  the  character  of  Coleridge,  or  of  Milton,  or  of  Burke,  or  of  a  score  of 
men  of  genius  whose  portraits  he  has  painted  with  lore  and  with  power.  In  pure  criti 
cism,  who  has  done  so  much  for  the  novelists,  the  essayists,  writers  of  comedy,  for  the 
old  dramatists  and  elder  poets  ?  Lamb's  fine  notes  are  merely  notes,  Coleridge's  im 
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ond.  He  has  distanced  all  his  competitors  so  decidedly  that  it  is  not  worth 
while  to  place  them.  Eclipse  is  first,  and  the  rest  nowhere. 

"  We  are  not  sure  that  there  is  in  the  whole  history  of  the  human  intellect  so 
strange  a  phenomenon  as  this  book.  Many  of  the  greatest  men  that  ever  lived 
have  written  biography.  Boswell  was  one  of  the  smallest  men  that  ever  lived, 
and  he  has  beaten  them  all.  *  *  *  He  has  in  an  important  department  of 
literature,  immeasurably  surpassed  such  writers  as  Tacitus,  Clarendon,  Alfieri, 
and  his  own  idol — Johnson.  *  *  * 

"  Johnson  grown  old,  Johnson  in  the  fullness  of  his  fame  and  in  the  enjoyment 
of  a  competent  fortune,  is  better  known  to  us  than  any  other  man  in  history. 
Everything  about  him,  his  coat,  his  wig,  his  face,  his  scrofula,  his  St.  Vitus's 
dance,  his  rolling  walk,  his  blinking  eye,  the  outward  signs  which  too  clearly 
marked  his  approbation  of  his  dinner,  his  insatiable  appetite  for  fish-sauce 
and  veal-pie  with  plums,  his  inextinguishable  thirst  for  tea,  his  trick  of  touch 
ing  the  post  as  he  walked,  his  mysterious  practice  of  treasuring  up  scraps  of 
orange-peel,  his  morning  slumbers,  his  midnight  disputations,  his  contortions, 
his  mu'terings,  his  gruntings,  his  puffings,  his  vigorous,  acute,  and  ready  elo 
quence,  his  sarcastic  wit,  his  vehemence,  his  insolence,  his  fits  of  tempestuous 
rage,  his  queer  inmates,  old  Mr.  Levetfc  and  blind  Mrs.  Williams,  the  cat  Hodge, 
and  the  negro  Frank,  all  are  familiar  to  us  as  the  objects  by  which  we  have  been 
surrounded  from  childhood." 

Speaking  of  BOSWELL'S  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON,  Mr.  Carlyle  says : 

"  How  the  babbling  Bozzy,  inspired  only  by  love,  and  the  recognition  and  vision 
which  love  can  lend,  epitomizes  nightly  the  words  of  Wisdom,  the  deeds  and 
aspects  of  Wisdom,  and  so,  by  little  and  little,  unconsciously  works  together  for 
us  a  whole  Johnsoniad  ;  a  more  free,  perfect,  sunlit  and  spirit-speaking  likeness, 
than  for  many  centuries  had  been  drawn  by  man  of  man !  Scarcely  since  the 
days  of  Homer  has  the  feat  been  equalled  ;  indeed  in  many  senses,  this  also  is  a 
kind  of  Heroic  Poem.  The  fit  Odyssey  of  our  unheroic  age  was  to  be  written, 
not  sung;  of  a  Thinker,  not  of  a  Fighter;  and  (for  want  of  a  Homer)  by  the 
first  open  soul  that  might  offer — looked  such  even  through  the  organs  of  a 
Boswell  *  *  * 

"In  worth  as  a  Book  we  have  rated  it  beyond  any  other  product  of  the 
eighteenth  century. 

DERBY  &    JACKSON,    PUBLISHERS, 

119  Nassau  Street. 


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